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Canvasback  Library  of  Popular  Fiction.      Volume  XV 


The  Catholic 


THE    CATHOLIC 


A  TALE    OF 
CONTEMPORARY    SOCIETY 


JOHN  LANE:    THE   BODLET    HEAD 
NEW     YORK     ^     LONDON     MCMIT 


Copyright,   1902 
by  John  Lane 


CONTENTS 

PART  I— THE  MAGNETIC  INFLUENCE 

OHAPTER  PAQX 

I  " Aristocbatic  Rome" 1 

II  A  Scene  in  St.  Peter's  Catholic  Chitrch,  Bel- 

GRAVIA 7 

III  A  Scene  in  Newark  House,  Belgravia  .        .        .22 
rV"  A  Glimpse  into  the  Past 44 

V  Ernest  de  Keramur 51 

VI  The  Sisters-in-Law 61 

VII  Rejected! 73 

VHI  Lady  Newark  and  Father  Macdonald  .        .       .88 

IX  The  Rupture 102 

X  Lady  Eva  Resists  the  Influence    .       .       .       .115 

XI  The  Bishop  op  Winton  and  Colonel  Fitzgowkr  .  122 

XII  Ernest  de  Keramur's  Challenge  ....  138 

XIII  Catholic  Society  at  Newark  House      .       .        .  149 

XIV  The  Catholic  Drama 165 

XV  Lady  Eva  Yields 178 

PART  II— THE  "CONVERT" 

I  The  Struggle  at  Tanworth,  and  its  Result       .  191 

II  The  Notorious  Mrs.  Wimpole 204 

in  The  Zealot  .        .        . 213 

IV  "The  World"  at  Newark  House   .       .       .       .223 

V  Monsignor's  Perplexity 285 

[Ui] 


2128G03 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAOI 

VI  Women  and  Wink 249 

Til  "The  Way  op  the  Crosb" 269 

VIII  Cardinal  Grimsby 285 

IX  The  Scandal 298 

X  Sir  Ralph's  Suit 305 

XI  The  Old  Eve 325 

XII  Lady  Eva's  Encounter  with  Cardinal  Orihbby     .  331 

XIII  "  Spirited  Away  " 351 

Epilogue 360 


[iv] 


AUTHOE'S  ADVEETISEMENT 

This  is  a  "picture  of  life,"  not  a  novel  with  a  pur- 
pose. The  author  has  endeavoured  to  put  into  artis- 
tic form  the  results  of  his  observation  of  a  section  of 
contemporary  English  society  interested  in  the  Eoman 
Catholic  C5hurch,  with  a  view,  neither  xf  attacking  nor 
defending  that  Church,  but  of  portraying  character 
in  association  with  it.  The  story  is  the  record  of  a 
struggle  between  a  proud  Englishwoman  and  a  great 
spiritual  power.  She  is  not  held  up  to  the  admira- 
tion nor  to  the  reprobation  of  the  reader;  judgement 
is  not  passed  upon  her  by  the  author ;  she  is  merely 
presented. 


THE    CATHOLIC 

PART  I 

THE   MAGNETIC   INFLUENCE 

CHAPTER  I 
"Aristocratic  Rome" 

"You  make  Rome  too  attractive,"  said  the  Cardinal 
with  a  grim  smile. 

"That  is  impossible,  your  Eminence,"  returned 
Monsignor  Vancelour. 

Monsignor  was  a  member  of  an  old  Catholic  fam- 
ily, a  man  of  forty,  rich,  handsome,  and  of  courtly 
bearing.  He  had  "  lived  in  the  world  "  tUl  his  thir- 
tieth year  and  for  a  while  was  attached  to  the  embassy 
at  Vienna ;  he  may  therefore  have  loved  an  Archduch- 
ess, she  may  have  returned  his  passion,  and  the  frus- 
tration of  their  union  may  have  been  the  cause  of  his 
entering  the  priesthood.  After  his  ordination  he 
asked  Cardinal  Grimsby  to  attach  him  to  a  mission  in 
the  East-end  of  London.  "I  wish  to  work  among 
God's  poor,"  said  he.  "No  doubt  you  do,"  returned 
the  prelate;  "but  you  must  mortify  that  very  natural 
desire,  for  you  are  called  to  work  among — ^the  rich ! " 

[1] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Thereupon  Yancelour  purchased  a  site  for  St.  Peter's 
in  a  fashionable  quarter  of  London,  and  built  the 
church  at  his  own  expense.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  modern  Gothic  structures  in  the  metropolis, 
cruciform  in  shape,  a  cathedral  in  miniature,  with 
double  aisles,  clerestory,  and  triforium.  The  exterior 
was  comparatively  plain,  the  interior  very  rich,  a 
blaze  of  colour,  with  its  marble,  bronze  and  alabaster 
altars,  mosaics,  glass  and  pictures.  Good  taste  was 
displayed  in  the  decorations ;  there  was  no  tinsel  on 
the  altars,  there  were  no  sham  flowers,  rags,  or  ugly 
dolls;  the  chalices,  monstrances,  vestments,  and  ban- 
ners were  of  magnificent  workmanship.  The  general 
effect  of  the  interior  was  extremely  impressiv^e ;  the 
colours  harmonised  and  the  eye  was  not  bewildered 
by  the  elaborate  architectm-al  detail. 

The  members  of  the  Catholic  aristocracy  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  congregation  of  St.  Peter's,  and  upon 
the  Sundays  in  the  London  season  the  church  was 
crowded  with  fashionable  people,  many  of  whom  were 
not  Catholics.  These  were  attracted  by  the  beautiful 
building,  the  solemn  services,  the  gorgeous  music  and 
ceremonial,  and  the  preaching  of  Monsignor  Vance- 
lour  ;  in  their  own  words,  they  visited  the  church  "  to 
see  Romanism  at  its  best."  On  the  other  hand,  St. 
Peter's  was  not  populai-  with  God's  poor,  namely,  the 
Irish,  who  declared  that  it  was  "little  better  than  a 
Protestant  temple ! " 

Though  not  an  intellectual  man,  not  subtle,  not 
much  of  a  theologiau,  Monsignor  Vancelour  had 
achieved  a  considerable  reputation  in  London  society. 

[2] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Noble  dames  liked  to  coquet  with  this  handsome  and 
dignified  representative  of  Eome.  The  phrase  "he  is 
a  priest  without  a  sting, "  which  was  frequently  to  be 
heard  at  the  time  dealt  with  in  this  narrative,  owed 
its  origin  to  the  fact  that  he  rarely  indulged  in  contro- 
versy and  never  attacked  other  creeds ;  the  implica- 
tion that  he  was  therefore  "harmless"  was  not, 
however,  correct,  for  he  was  very  successful  in  "con- 
verting "  people  to  the  Church  of  Rome. 

But  in  spite  of  the  success  of  his  mission,  Mon- 
signor  was  disliked  and  distrusted  by  his  ecclesiastical 
superior,  Cardinal  Grimsby.  Malicious  gossips  whis- 
pered that  the  famous  prelate  was  jealous  of  him,  but 
that  idea  may  be  dismissed;  better-informed  people 
declared  that  the  Cardinal  regarded  him  as  a  priest 
lacking  in  "grit,"  as  a  sentimental  and  a  weak  eccle- 
siastic, who  dwelt  too  much  upon  the  sensuous  aspect 
of  Catholicism.  His  Eminence  was  apt  to  be  jocose 
at  Monsignor's  expense,  and  had  dropped  the  phrase 
"feather-bed  monk"  in  reference  to  him;  the  Cardi- 
nal rarely  visited  St.  Peter's  Church,  and  when  he 
did  go  there  he  was  not  very  agreeable.  He  would 
sniflf,  move  his  shrunken  jaws  up  and  down,  and  mut- 
ter, "Aristocratic  Rome.  H'm.  Yes.  I  do  not  like 
Aristocratic  Rome !    Send  Macdonald  to  me. " 

Father  Macdonald,  one  of  Monsignor's  assistant 
priests,  was  a  long,  lean,  ascetic  Scotchman,  an  excel- 
lent theologian,  the  author  of  a  well-known  Roman 
Catholic  treatise  entitled,  "Objective  Worship." 
Rumour  said  that  the  Cardinal  had  attached  him  to 
St.  Peter's  that  he  might  keep  an  eye  upon  the  rec- 

£3] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


tor,  Monsignor  Vaucelour,  aud  counteract  his  influ- 
ence. Father  Macdonald's  methods  of  advancing  the 
interests  of  Eome  were  the  converse  of  those  pursued 
by  Monsignor ;  he  was  a  rigid  dogmatist,  and  in  his 
representation  the  "  Great  Mother  "  assumed  a  forbid- 
ding aspect.  He  did  battle  with  the  heretic  and  gave 
him  no  quarter,  he  hurled  Rome's  thunderbolts  at 
disbelievers  and  the  "children  of  the  world."  Ac- 
cordingly, when  he  was  advertised  to  preach  at  St. 
Peter's  the  majority  of  the  congregation  went  else- 
where, and  the  casual  visitors  who  listened  to  his  dis- 
course reconsidered  their  favourable  opinion  of  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Still  he  had  his  admirers  and  was 
held  in  respect  by  the  Catholic  world.  It  was  said 
that  he  "  kept  the  conscience "  of  the  Cardinal  and 
had  influence  with  that  prelate ;  he  was  indeed  a  man 
of  power  in  his  way  and  capable  of  producing  a  deep 
impression  upon  timid  souls. 

Monsignor's  other  assistant  priest,  Father  Jones, 
was  altogether  out  of  his  element  at  St.  Peter's.  He 
had  formerly  been  sta,tioned  at  Wapping,  and  before 
his  removal  to  the  West-end  had  never  so  much  as 
seen  a  grande  dame.  On  being  attached  to  St.  Peter's, 
he  obtained  leave  of  the  rector  to  establish  a  series  of 
"  popular  services "  at  the  church,  and  hunted  up 
such  poor  as  dwelt  in  the  small  parish.  He  engaged 
some  stalwart  Irishmen  to  sing  English  hymns  on  the 
"Wednesday  and  Saturday  evenings,  declared  himself 
a  Home  Ruler,  acquired  a  brogue,  and  spared  no 
pains  to  make  St.  Peter's  Church  attractive  to  God's 
poor ;  but  his  efforts  were  not  successful. 

[4] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Catholic  society  was  much  interested  in  Sir  Ealph 
Aylmer  de  Vancelour,  Baronet,  Monsignor's  nephew, 
and  the  fact  was  not  surprising,  for  the  man  possessed 
nearly  a  million  pounds  sterling.  This  vast  sum  had 
been  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  mother,  a  Bourbon 
Princess,  who  had  amassed  it  chiefly  in  building  spec- 
ulations in  Paris  in  the  days  of  the  Second  Empire. 
She  had  tied  her  son  to  her  apron  strings,  and  he  was 
inconsolable  at  her  loss,  spending  the  greater  part  of 
his  time  in  wandering  in  the  Park  and  in  playing  with 
Blackie,  a  French  poodle  dog.  Monsignor  had  tried 
in  vain  to  rouse  him  and  had  then  handed  him  over 
to  Father  Macdonald,  who  became  his  spiritual  coun- 
sellor and  intimate  friend. 

Monsignor's  protege  was  Ernest  de  Keramur,  a 
young  musician,  who  lived  with  his  crippled  mother 
in  a  small  flat  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Peter's 
Church.  Ernest  was  the  member  of  an  ancient  and 
distinguished  Breton  family,  but  he  had  no  money 
other  than  what  he  earned  by  his  profession,  and  his 
mother's  income  was  barely  three  hundred  a  year. 
He  was  a  dreamy,  romantic-looking  youth  of  three-and- 
twenty,  quite  unsophisticated,  astonishingly  ignorant 
of  the  world.  Some  years  ago  he  had  been  promised 
the  post  of  organist  of  St.  Peter's  when  he  had 
finished  his  musical  education,  and  he  thrilled  at 
the  thought  of  the  power  wielded  by  the  man  who 
held  that  appointment.  The  enchantress — a  noble 
lady,  in  his  anticipation,  graceful,  gracious,  in- 
comparably lovely — was  to  appear  at  St.  Peter's 
and   be  wrought   upon   by  his   organ  music.      He 

[5] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


was  to  meet  her  often  there  after  he  had  filled 
the  place  with  sound,  and  stirred  and  excited  her 
emotions..  He  was  to  woo  and  win  her  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God. 


[«3 


CHAPTEE  n 
A  Scene  in  St.  Peter's  Catholic  Church,  Bel- 

GRAVIA 

One  afternoon  in  early  spring  Monsignor  Vance- 
lour  was  engaged  with  his  correspondence,  but  seemed 
unable  to  fix  his  thoughts  upon  his  work.  He  would 
rise  to  his  feet  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  open  the 
door  and  stand  with  head  inclined  in  the  act  of  listen- 
ing ;  or,  putting  his  pen  aside,  quit  the  room,  pass  from 
the  presbytery  into  the  sacristy  and  thence  into  the 
church,  make  his  obeisance  to  the  altar,  and  then  turn 
his  back  upon  it  and  look  towards  the  West-end  gal- 
lery, whence  there  came  at  irregular  intervals  sounds 
of  a  curiously  varied  character,  some  pleasant,  some 
discordant,  some  quaint,  some  calculated  to  inspire 
terror. 

At  six  o'clock  he  met  his  assistant  priests  at  tea, 
and  told  them  that  the  new  organ  was  completed. 

Father  Macdonald  groaned.  "Terrible  machine! 
Terrible  machine ! "  he  ejaculated. 

"Kead  this,''  said  Monsignor,  handing  him  a  letter, 
"and  then  pass  it  on  to  Jones." 

Father  Macdonald  read  the  missive  with  a  grim 
smile. 

"Have  you  been  discussing  the  organ  with  his 
Eminence?"  asked  Monsignor. 

[7] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"No,"  replied  Macdonald.  "I  have  never  alluded 
to  it  either  to  him  or  to  anyone  else.  I  dare  not. 
Ah,  there  it  is  again ! "  and  he  screwed  up  his  fea- 
tures into  an  expression  of  agony  as  the  vibration 
from  a  pedal-pipe  reached  him. 

"His  Eminence  knows  very  little  about  music,"  ob- 
served Father  Jones,  who  was  reading  the  Cardinal's 
missive.  "Why,  he  refers  to  the  new  organ!"  he 
exclaimed  the  next  minute.  "  Too  noisy !  Too  large 
for  the  church !  " 

"It  is  too  large  for  the  church,"  Monsignor  ad- 
mitted with  a  smile.  "My  artistic  conscience — 
You  don't  like  the  phrase,  Macdonald?  —  my  con- 
science, then,  tells  me  so.  Mea  culpa.  Mea  maxima 
culpa ! " 

At  this  point  Macdonald  rose  to  his  feet,  opened 
the  door,  and  then  started  back  as  though  he  had  been 
struck. 

"  Great.  Eeeds,  eight  and  sixteen  feet, "  explained 
Monsignor. 

"What  an  appalling  noise!"  cried  Macdonald, 
shutting  the  door,  "The  powers  of  darkness  must 
have  been  let  loose  in  the  church ! " 

"Would  you  banish  sound  from  the  house  of 
God?"  asked  Monsignor.  "Yes,  and  colour,  too,  I 
believe,  and  worship  in  a  barn." 

"I  would,"  replied  the  Scotchman.  "But  I  sub- 
mit !  I  submit !  " 

Thereupon  the  priests,  having  finished  their  tea, 
quitted  the  room,  Monsignor  returning  to  his  own 
apartment. 

[83 


THE  CATHOLIC 


He  was  disturbed  by  the  Cardinal's  letter,  which 
was  carping  and  disagreeable  in  tone.  He  had  shown 
it  to  his  assistant  priests  because  it  proved  that  the 
writer  was  not  qualified  to  express  an  opinion  upon 
the  subject  of  music;  but  now  that  he  was  alone, 
Monsignor  dwelt  upon  the  more  important  fact  dis- 
closed by  the  letter,  namely,  that  the  Cardinal's  un- 
friendly attitude  towards  him  was  unchanged.  This 
was  a  matter  of  grief  to  the  rector,  for  though,  in 
common  with  so  many  of  the  members  of  the  old  Cath- 
olic families,  he  disliked  Cardinal  Grimsby,  the  feeling 
did  not  blind  him  to  the  great  qualities  of  the  famous 
churchman.  He  was,  moreover,  aware  of  his  own 
limitations,  and  tried  to  see  himself  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  ascetic  prelate.  "Feather-bed  monk! 
Feather-bed  monk!"  he  muttered  and  winced;  but 
suddenly  a  vast  triad  filled  the  air  with  sound  and 
drove  all  troublesome  thoughts  from  his  mind;  his 
handsome  face  lit  up  with  joy ;  and  taking  his  berretta 
he  quitted  the  room,  descended  the  stair,  and  entered 
the  sacristy,  where  he  was  accosted  by  a  man  carrying 
a  bag  of  tools. 

"We've  left  the  gas  alight  and  the  console  open," 
said  the  man.  "  The  young  gentleman  was  to  be  here 
at  about  this  time  to  try  the  organ.  There's  nothing 
more  to  be  done,  sir;  we've  gone  over  the  reeds  for 
the  last  time." 

Monsignor  nodded,  and  passed  into  the  church. 
Evening  was  drawing  on,  and  except  for  the  little  red 
altar  lamp  the  sanctuary  was  in  darkness;  two  or 
three  of  the  gas  brackets  were  alight  in  the  aisles  and 

[9] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


there  was  light  in  the  organ-gallery,  but  the  greater 
portion  of  the  building  was  in  obscurity. 

Monsignor  looked  towards  the  sanctuary,  and  his 
eyes  traced  the  outline  of  the  reredos  and  descended 
to  the  tabernacle,  upon  which  they  rested  while  he 
muttered  a  short,  prayer.  He  then  drew  near  to  a 
spot  whence  a  picture  representing  the  Condemnation 
of  the  Saviour  could  be  seen,  gazed  up  at  it  with  love 
and  pity  in  his  large  blue  eyes,  and  said  the  prayers 
selected  for  the  First  Station  in  the  popular  Roman 
Catholic  devotion,  the  Way  of  the  Cross.  He  then 
proceeded  on  his  journey,  halting  at  each  of  the 
Stations,  recalling  the  scenes  they  represented,  and 
repeating  the  prescribed  prayers. 

He  was  thus  engaged  when  a  lady  entered  the 
church  and  stood  for  a  couple  of  minutes  close  to  the 
last  bench  of  the  nave,  taking  in  the  scene.  She  was 
a  tall,  finely  built  girl  of  thi-ee-  or  four-and-twenty, 
very  dark,  extremely  handsome.  Her  eyes  were  mag- 
nificent, deep  set,  heavy  lidded,  and  with  long  curved 
lashes;  her  eyebrows  were  straight  and  thick,  and 
there  was  a  suspicion  of  down  upon  her  upper  lip. 
She  had  large  regular  features,  a  high,  broad  fore- 
head, a  prominent  aquiline  nose  with  sensitive  nos- 
trils, and  a  massive  chin.  But  though  her  beauty  was 
of  a  bold  and  commanding  type  and  her  carriage 
stately,  the  expression  in  her  eyes  was  soft  and  sad. 
Her  toilette,  which  was  very  fashionable  but  sombre 
in  colour,  helped  the  impression  she  conveyed  of  a 
lady  in  high  place  and  with  a  proud  and  masterful 
spirit,  who  had  passed  through  a  tragical  experience. 

[10] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Having  taken  a  general  survey  of  the  building  she 
walked  slowly  up  the  nave  and,  halting  close  to  the 
sanctuary  steps,  gazed  towards  the  tabernacle  with  a 
wistful  yearning  expression.  She  then  turned  her 
back  to  the  altar  and  with  half-closed  eyes  watched 
Monsignor,  who,  with  head  bent  and  his  berretta  held 
against  his  breast,  was  moving  from  one  Station  to 
another.  He  was  far  distant  from  her  and  presuma- 
bly she  wished  to  obtain  a  clearer  view  of  him,  for 
she  entered  the  aisle,  walked  along  the  passage  above 
which  the  pictures  representing  the  stages  of  Christ's 
last  journey  were  suspended,  and  coming  to  a  stand- 
still half-way  down  the  aisle  continued  her  examina- 
tion of  the  priest. 

Meanwhile  the  rustle  of  her  garments  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  a  young  man  of  romantic  appearance, 
who  was  kneeling  in  a  chapel  that  opened  out  from 
the  aisle  close  to  the  spot  where  she  had  halted.  Ilie 
chapel  was  in  darkness,  but  she  stood  in  light,  and 
her  handsome  face  and  figure  were  visible  to  the 
young  man,  who  rose  slowly  to  his  feet  and  gazed  at 
her  with  love  and  admiration  in  his  eyes.  He  was  the 
organist,  Ernest  de  Keramur,  and  he  had  come  to  the 
church  to  play  for  the  first  time  upon  the  new  organ, 
to  "show  off"  the  instrument  to  Monsignor  Vance- 
lour.  For  months,  years,  he  had  looked  forward  to 
this  day,  this  hour,  when  he  was  to  demonstrate  his 
mastery  of  his  art  to  Monsignor  and  receive  at  his 
hands  the  much  coveted  appointment.  Reared  in  the 
atmosphere  of  religion  he  had  been  invoking  God  to 
aid  him  in  his  performance  wheu  the  rustle  of  the 
[11] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


lady's  dress  caught  his  ear.  Her  beauty  enraptured 
him ;  he  loved  her  the  moment  he  beheld  her ;  she 
was  the  lady  of  his  dreams  made  flesh ;  and  as  he  had 
anticipated  she  had  first  appeared  to  him  in  St.  Peter's 
Church. 

When  she  had  left  his  vision  Ernest  quitted  the 
chapel,  and  observed  her  cross  the  nave  and  draw 
near  to  Monsignor,  with  the  purpose,  it  would  seem, 
of  accosting  him ;  but  at  a  few  yards'  distance  from 
the  priest  she  held  back,  apparently  not  liking  to 
interrupt  him  in  his  devotions.  Her  movements  did 
not  surprise  the  young  Breton ;  the  scene  was  as  he 
had  preconceived  it:  the  lady  was  dissatisfied  with 
"  the  world  "  and  had  come  to  seek  counsel  of  a  priest 
of  God ;  it  was  his  own  part  to  charge  the  atmosphere 
with  sound,  to  stir  her  emotions,  to  thrill  her  by  his 
organ  music.  Accordingly,  he  quitted  the  aisle, 
stepped  quietly  down  the  nave,  and  two  minutes  later 
was  gazing  at  the  console  of  the  organ.  Again  he 
beheld  the  hand  of  God.  The  gallery  was  lit  up,  the 
console  was  open,  the  engine  supplying  wind  to  the 
organ  was  at  work,  some  of  the  stops  even  were 
drawn.  A  gentle,  regular,  pulsating  sound  was  in 
the  gallery ;  the  organ  seemed  to  be  breathing,  to  be 
welcoming  Ernest,  surrendering  itself  to  him  with  all 
its  notes  of  joy  and  sorrow  and  sympathy  and  tri- 
umph ;  and  he  looked  upon  it  as  the  bridegroom  looks 
upon  his  bride,  with  pride  and  happiness  and  an 
expression  of  respectful  mastery. 

Monsignor  had  reached  the  Twelfth  Station  and  was 
contemplating  the  Death  of  Christ  upon  the  Cross, 
[12] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


when  he  heard  the  rustle  of  a  dress,  turned,  and  be- 
held the  lady.  He  had  been  absorbed  in  his  devo- 
tions, and  her  sudden  appearance  caused  him  to  make 
a  slight  start,  upon  which  she  dropped  her  eyes  in 
confusion  and  came  to  a  standstill.  He  looked  sur- 
prised, then  a  trifle  irritated,  then  he  turned  with  a 
slow  uncertain  movement  and  resumed  his  devotions. 
When  he  had  finished  them  and  made  his  obeisance  to 
the  altar,  the  lady  came  forward  and  said:  "I  beg 
your  pardon  for  interrupting  you,  Father.  I  want  to 
know  if  you  will  kindly  allow  me  to  consult  with 
you." 

Monsignor  bowed.  "Certainly,"  said  he;  and  then 
after  a  short  pause,  "Are  you  a  Catholic? "  he  asked. 

"No." 

"You  are  thinking  of  becoming  one?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.     I  cannot  make  up  my  mind. " 

Monsignor  threw  a  searching  glance  at  her,  and  the 
light  of  recognition  appeared  in  his  eyes. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  on  observing  his  expression,  "we 
have  met  before — once  or  twice — years  ago.  You 
came  to  us  at  Tan  worth.  My  father  was  alive  then, " 
she  added  in  a  sad  tone. 

"I  remember,"  said  the  priest.  "You  are  Lady 
Eva  Fitzgower." 

Further  speech  was  arrested  by  a  deep  pedal  note, 
an  emanation  from  the  abysses  of  sound.  Involunta- 
rily the  eyes  of  the  lady  met  those  of  her  companion 
and  remained  fixed  upon  them  while  she  and  the 
priest  awaited  the  "broad  and  massive"  chord  that 
they  felt  must  inevitably  arise  upon  that  profound 
[13] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


pedal  uote.  They  smiled  on  hearing  it,  and  then  stood 
for  several  minutes,  facing  each  other,  without  uttering 
a  word,  while  Ernest  extemporised  upon  the  organ. 

There  was  much  resonance  in  the  church,  and  that 
and  the  dim  light  heightened  the  effect  of  the  music, 
which  in  itself  was  not  remarkable.  A  clever  organ- 
ist was  extemporising  upon  a  fine  organ,  that  was  all ; 
but  his  performance  cast  a  spell  upon  the  hearers. 
They  stood  rigid  with  dreamy,  half -closed  eyes  while 
the  tones  of  the  diapasons  rolled  and  reverberated  in 
the  building,  and  when  the  organist  drew  the  reed 
stops  on  the  swell  and  began  adding  register  to  regis- 
ter a  look  of  excitement  became  visible  upon  their 
countenances.  The  mighty  rush  of  sound  thrilled 
their  nerves.  The  long-drawn-out  crescendo  suggested 
the  approach  of  a  tempest.  The  benches  shook,  the 
candlesticks  rattled,  the  ground  trembled  under  their 
feet.  "  Splendid !  splendid ! "  muttered  the  lady, 
whereupon  Monsignor  started  and  awoke  as  from  a 
dream.  He  was  a  little  ashamed  of  his  nervous  exal- 
tation, and  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  Cardinal  who 
scorned  him  as  a  lover  of  sensation.  Thenceforth  he 
took  no  pleasure  in  the  music  and  observed  with 
growing  irritation  its  effect  upon  the  lady.  He  saw 
the  radiant  smile  upon  her  face,  the  look  of  exquisite 
enjoyment  in  her  eyes,  and  he  perceived  that  the  emo- 
tion she  displayed  was  not  of  the  kind  that  should  be 
experienced  in  a  church.  The  Cardinal  was  right,  he 
admitted  it:  the  organ  was  too  large,  too  strenuous, 
too  stirring ;  it  excited  and  enthralled  the  hearer  in- 
stead of  appealing  to  his  religious  feelings. 
[14] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


When  Ernest  had  brought  his  performance  to  an 
end,  Lady  Eva  exclaimed :  "What  a  magnificent  or- 
gan! Ah,  now  I'm  in  the  mood  to  join  the  Eoman 
Church!" 

Perhaps  she  thought,  she  may  even  have  hoped, 
that  Monsignor  would  hasten  to  take  advantage  of  her 
mood;  but  he  did  not  do  so.  "The  organ  is  too 
large,"  said  he  coldly,  "too  sensational  an  instru- 
ment." 

"Well,  but  so  much  the  better, "said  she.  "I  mean 
I  like  that  overwhelming,  overpowering  sound.  The 
music  in  the  Eoman  churches  is  so  impressive,  and  in 
this  church  it  is  more  impressive  than  in  any  other. 
I  often  come  to  hear  it." 

"  I  hope  that  you  don't  come  here  only  to  hear  the 
music?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  the  ceremonies  also  impress  me,  and  the 
church  itself  is  so  devotional." 

"The  accessories  of  Catholic  worship  attract  youf" 

"Oh,  so  so  much!  I  mean  at  St.  Peter's.  At 
other  Catholic  churches  in  London  and  in  the  churches 
abroad  I  am  often  repelled  by  what  I  see.  At  St. 
Peter's  Eomanism  is  adapted  to  suit  the  tastes  of 
English  people." 

"Anglo-Gallicanism! "  inwardly  exclaimed  the 
priest,  and  again  the  figure  of  the  Cardinal  arose  be- 
fore his  mental  vision,  for  Grimsby  had  accused  him 
of  fostering  the  spirit  of  Anglo-Gallicanism  (namely, 
the  principle  or  tendency  of  those  who  wished  to 
reduce  the  papal  authority  over  English  Eoman 
Catholics  and  to  be  "  as  national  as  possible  "  without 
[15] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


quitting  the  Roman  fold)  among  the  Catholic  aris- 
tocracy. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  priest.  "Except  in 
trifling  details  the  services  at  St.  Peter's  do  not  diflfer 
from  the  services  in  other  Catholic  churches." 

She  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  "I  am  hoping 
that  the  organist  will  play  again,"  she  said.  " By  the 
by,  would  you  let  me  see  the  organ  ?  I  should  like  so 
much  to  see  it." 

Monsignor  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  request,  but 
he  acceded  to  it,  motioned  her  to  follow  him,  and 
walked  towards  the  West-end  gallery. 

Ernest  de  Keramur  was  standing  close  to  the  con- 
sole of  the  organ  when  Monsignor  and  the  lady 
appeared.  The  priest  came  forward  and  congratulated 
him  upon  his  performance ;  then  indicating  his  com- 
panion, "This  lady  wishes  to  see  the  organ,"  he  said, 
and  he  mentioned  the  names  of  the  young  man  and 
the  young  woman,  M.  de  Keramur,  Lady  Eva  Fitz- 
gower.  Ernest  bowed  and  invited  her  to  approach 
the  console  of  the  instrument ;  then  resumed  his  seat 
and  launched  out  into  a  description  of  the  stops, 
manuals,  and  mechanical  contrivances.  She  listened 
with  a  show  of  interest,  but  she  was  observing  the 
organist  not  the  organ,  as  Ernest  perceived  when  he 
glanced  up  at  her  after  emphasising  a  point  in  his 
description.  She  had  decided  that  he  was  interesting 
looking,  that  he  was  a  genius,  and  the  idea  was  ex- 
pressed in  her  beautiful  eyes  when  the  young  man 
caught  them  unawares.  She  coloured  slightly  and 
smiled,  and  Ernest,  turning  again  to  the  organ,  made 
[16] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


some  effective  combinations  of  registers,  and  asked 
her  her  opinion  of  them.  Then  he  persuaded  her  to 
try  the  organ  herself,  and  they  changed  positions,  she 
taking  his  place  upon  the  organ  seat  and  he  hers  close 
to  the  console. 

"You  must  teach  me,"  said  she,  after  playing  a  few 
chords  upon  the  instrument.  "Will  you?  Do  you 
think  Monsignor  would  allow  you  to  t«ach  me  upon 
this  organ  1  And  I  wish  that  you  would  always  play 
when  I  am  in  the  church ;  it  makes  me  feel  so  devo- 
tional. You  might  tell  me  when  you  practise  and  I 
might  arrange  to  be  here  at  the  time.  I  should  like 
it  to  be  at  an  hour  when  there's  a  dim  religious  light 
in  the  church." 

Monsignor  was  observing  them  with  a  troubled 
smile;  he  could  hear  Cardinal  Grimsby  saying, 
"What  business  has  that  woman  here?  "  and  he  him- 
self had  misgivings  in  regard  to  the  lady  whose 
behaviour,  it  must  be  admitted,  was  a  little  cool. 
"Difficult  case!"  bethought.  "Difficult  case!"  and 
then,  "My  young  friend  bears  himself  well."  This 
had  reference  to  Ernest,  who  was  smiling  and  chatting 
with  the  lady  as  though  he  had  known  her  for  years. 

"But  we  must  ask  Monsignor,"  said  she,  raising  her 
voice ;  and  then  turning  to  the  priest :  "  I  hope  that 
what  I  have  suggested  will  not  interfere  with  the 
services  of  the  church." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  we  could  not  postpone  the  ser- 
vices, "  said  he  with  mock  gravity. 

At  that  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face.  "Of  course 
not,"  said  she  softly. 

3  [17] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"  If  you  attended  the  services  you  would  hear  M. 
de  Keramur  play,"  suggested  the  priest. 

"True,"  said  she  doubtfully. 

"You  would  not  object  to  others  being  present?" 
And  then  after  glancing  at  his  wateh :  "  They  will  be 
shutting  up  the  church  in  a  few  minutes. " 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon," said  she.  "I  had  forgot- 
ten about  the  time.  It  was  so  good  of  you  to  have 
played,"  she  added  to  the  organist.  "I  enjoyed  your 
playing  so  much ! " 

"Kindly  allow  me,"  said  Ernest,  and  she  gave  him 
her  hand,  and  he  helped  her  to  her  feet. 

"Good-bye!"  said  she,  nodding  to  him.  "Don't 
forget  that  you  have  promised  to  teach  me  the 
organ,"  and  gathering  her  skirts  she  turned  to  the 
priest,  and  in  a  glance  graciously  gave  him  her  per- 
mission to  precede  her  down  the  stair.  He  did  so, 
and  when  they  had  made  the  descent  she  exclaimed : 
"Ah!  how  solemn  the  church  looks.  Perfect!  Per- 
fect!" 

"  But  surely  the  place  should  have  been  fitted  with 
arm-chairs  instead  of  with  hard  benches!  "  said  Mon- 
signor  with  a  smile.  "And  wouldn't  a  few  coloured 
lights  increase  the  effect?  " 

She  was  not  iu  the  habit  of  being  snubbed,  and  it 
took  her  some  little  time  to  grasp  the  significance  of 
his  words.  Then,  "  I  am  so  sorry  that  I  have  not  been 
— been  correct,"  said  she  slowly  and  blushing  a  deep 
red.     "  But  I  am  not  a  Eomanist  and — and " 

"We  must  not  come  to  God's  house  merely  to  seek 
agreeable  sensations;  that  is  all  I  meant  to  imply," 
[18] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


said  he;  and  then  after  a  short  pause,  "You  wish  to 
consult  with  me  !  " 

Yes, "  she  answered  hesitatingly,  for  she  was  a  little 
hurt.    "Yes.    Would  seven  in  the  evening  suit  yout " 

"  Yes,  quite  well. " 

**'Not  to-morrow.  Thursday  —  Thursday  next 
week." 

That  day  and  hour  were  agreed  upon  for  the  inter- 
view, and  the  next  moment  the  priest  bowed  and 
quitted  her,  without  accompanying  her  to  the  door 
of  the  church.  She  felt  the  slight,  if  indeed  it  should 
be  called  that,  and  watched  the  retreating  figure  of 
the  priest  with  reproachful  eyes ;  then  turned,  quitted 
the  building,  and  stood  under  the  porch  peering  into 
the  darkness  for  her  carriage.  Not  seeing  it,  she  left 
the  porch  and  had  proceeded  a  few  yards  on  her  way 
when  the  door  of  the  presbytery  opened  and  Ernest 
appeared.  To  her  surprise  he  came  forward  and  ad- 
dressed her.  "  I  intended  to  ask  you  a  favour  and  I 
trust  that  you  will  forgive  me, "  said  he.  "  I  should 
be  so  grateful  if  you  would  come  to  the  church  for  the 
Mass  next  Sunday.  It  will  be  the  first  service  that  I 
shall  play  at  St.  Peter's  and  I  am  very  anxious  that  it 
shall  go  well.     May  I  walk  with  you!  " 

This  was  a  bold  request.  Lady  Eva  very  rarely 
walked  in  London  streets  unattended  by  her  maid, 
even  in  the  daytime,  and  it  was  now  dark.  But  no 
one  was  about,  and  the  person  who  played  the  organ 
was  interesting,  a  genius,  and  she  was  rather  curious 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  to  her.  "  I  can  quite  un- 
derstand your  anxiety,"  said  she,  resuming  her  walk. 
[19] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"And  you  will  be  present  at  the  Mass! " 

"  Er — well,  I  must  see  what  my  plans  are  for  Sun- 
day." 

"  It  will  help  me  if  I  know  that  you  are  present. " 

"Yes?"  said  she,  arching  her  brows.  "How? 
Why?" 

"  Your  presence  helped  me  this  evening.  I  never 
played  so  well  before.  I  knew  that  you  and  Monsig- 
nor  were  listening,  and  that  inspired  me.  Grand, 
wasn't  it,  when  I  brought  on  the  full  power  of  the 
organ ! " 

She  turned  and  glanced  at  the  strange  young  man. 
"Well,  yes,  it  was  grand,"  said  she,  smiling. 

"  And  you  will  come  on  Sunday  1 "  he  persisted. 

"  Yes,  if  I  have  no  engagement  for  that  morning. " 

"  Thank  you.  And  if  it  is  convenient  I  should  like 
to  see  you  after  the  Mass  and  discuss  the  service  with 
you.  I  intend  to  obtain  a  complete  control  over  the 
choir  and  to  make  the  music  at  St.  Peter's  the  best  in 
London.  But  I  should  like  you  to  help  me  by  your 
criticism.  Monsignor  has  technical  knowledge,  but  he 
has  to  take  part  in  the  services  and  to  preach,  and 
that  will  divert  his  attention  from  the  music.  I  shall 
be  in  the  organ-gallery  and  it  will  be  difficult  for  me 
to  judge  the  effect  that  I  and  my  choir  are  producing ; 
you  will  be  in  the  church  and  in  a  better  position  to 
judge  it.  As  my  pupil  you  will  soon  gain  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  organ  and  I  shall  make  known 
to  you  the  composition  of  the  choir. " 

"Now  what  am  I  to  say ? "  thought  Lady  Eva,  sup- 
pressing an  inclination  to  laugh.     The  young  man 

[20] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


betrayed  a  strange  ignorance  or  disregard  of  the  con- 
ventions ;  that  he  should  be  walking  by  her  side  on  a 
dark  evening  in  the  fashionable  quarter  of  London 
was  a  surprising  circumstance  enough,  and  here  was  he 
proposing  a  scheme  that  would  bring  them  together 
on  a  footing  of  intimacy!  But  she  felt  no  inclina- 
tion to  snub  him ;  she  had  been  struck  by  his  name, 
which  she  knew  to  be  that  of  a  distinguished  Breton 
family,  by  his  romantic  appearance,  by  the  ease  and 
grace  with  which  he  had  received  her  in  the  organ- 
gallery.  "  But  I  am  not  a  Catholic  and  not  a  member 
of  the  congregation  of  St.  Peter's,"  said  she. 

"But  you  are  going  to  join  the  Church,"  said  he, 
as  though  he  took  the  fact  for  granted. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  am.  I  have  not  made  up 
my  mind." 

They  had  entered  a  square,  in  an  angle  of  which 
stood  a  huge  brick  mansion  with  stone  quoins  and 
keystones  over  the  windows.  In  the  centre  of  the 
front  a  bow-window  projected,  and  from  either  side  of 
this  a  colonnade  reached  to  the  angle  of  the  house. 
Between  the  semicircular  drive,  which  enclosed  a 
railed-off  space  planted  with  evergreens,  the  gar- 
den of  the  square,  ran  the  public  road.  Upon  the 
stone  gate-posts  at  either  end  of  the  drive  the  words 
"Newark  House"  were  written.  This  was  Lady 
Eva's  destination,  and  she  stopped,  offered  Ernest  her 
hand  with  a  friendly  smile,  and  said,  "I  hope  that 
you  will  be  successful  on  Sunday." 


[21] 


CHAPTER  III 

A  Scene  in  Newark  House,  Belgkavia 

Newark  House  contained  several  fine  rooms.  A 
square  apartment,  lighted  from  the  top  by  a  glass 
dome  and  with  a  gallery  round  it  supported  by  Ionic 
columns  of  scagliola,  formed  a  sort  of  vestibule  to  the 
dining-room.  This  was  built  in  the  reign  of  Greorge 
II,  and  was  more  Renaissance  in  character:  a  very 
large  apartment,  sixty  feet  by  forty,  with  a  semi- 
circular bow  containing  three  French  windows  that 
looked  out  upon  the  square.  The  ceiling  was  coved, 
of  heavy  plaster  work,  and  adorned  with  wreaths  of 
foliage ;  pilasters  of  Brescia  marble  divided  the  walls 
into  square  panels,  in  the  centre  of  which  were  pic- 
tures by  an  Italian  painter  of  the  school  of  Correggio, 
carved  woodwork  in  the  beautiful  style  of  Grinliug 
Gibbons  surrounding  the  pictures.  The  furniture 
was  of  a  much  later  date,  that  of  George  IV's  reign, 
not  elegant  of  course  but  magnificent  in  its  way,  the 
huge  pieces  ^of  mahogany,  the  sideboards  with  their 
"sarcophagus"  wine-coolers,  giving  an  impression 
of  solidity  and  genuineness,  qualities  we  like  to  asso- 
ciate with  oui'  countrymen. 

Half  an  hour  after  Lady  Eva  had  entered  the  house 
this  room  presented  a  very  sumptuous  appearance. 
There  was  a  lavish,  almost  an  ostentatious,  display  of 

[22] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


plate  upon  the  table.  In  the  centre  stood  a  column 
of  silver-gilt  with  four  basket-like  projections  filled 
with  flowers  and  four  oblong  trays  connected  with  the 
column  by  pedestals  supporting  crouching  lions. 
These  trays  had  floors  of  burnished  silver  and  edges 
made  to  represent  classical  parapets  with  nymphs 
standing  upon  the  podia  at  the  angles;  they  were 
intended  to  convey  the  impression  of  four  canals  run- 
ning from  the  central  column.  This  wonderful  piece, 
or  rather  these  combined  pieces,  of  plate  had  be- 
longed to  Napoleon  the  Great.  There  were  other  fine 
examples  of  First  Empire  plate  upon  the  table,  and  a 
profusion  of  glass,  fruit,  and  flowers. 

All  this  glittering  display  would  seem  to  have  been 
for  the  benefit  of  only  three  diners,  for  two  servants 
in  livery  were  engaged  in  removing  three  dessert- 
plates  and  finger-bowls.  "When  they  had  done  this, 
the  men  took  two  of  the  chairs  away  from  the  table, 
leaving  the  third  in  its  position  at  the  head,  and  laid 
a  cover  for  a  single  diner.  A  minute  or  two  later  the 
butler  entered  and  looked  about  him  with  a  critical 
eye,  and  then  all  three  servants  stood  in  an  attitude 
of  expectation. 

At  about  half -past  nine  o'clock  the  rustle  of  gar- 
ments announced  the  approach  of  a  lady,  and  Eva 
Fitzgower  appeared,  wearing  a  black  velvet  dress  that 
left  her  finely  moulded  arms  and  neck  bare.  There- 
upon the  room  with  its  massive  furniture  and  richly 
decked  table  seemed  to  lose  its  ostentatious  character 
and  to  form  an  appropriate  surrounding  for  this 
stately  lady. 

[23] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Wheu  she  was  about  half-way  through  her  dinner 
Eva  sent  for  her  companion,  Miss  Norris,  who  pres- 
ently appeared  and  conversed  with  her  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  a  baby  boy  in  trouble  with  his  teeth,  both 
ladies  showing  much  concern.  Then  silence  followed 
till  the  servants  had  retired,  when  Miss  Norris  asked 
with  hesitation:  "Do  you  know  that  Lady  Newark 
has  made  the  acquaintance  of  Sir  Ealph  Vaucelour  ?  " 

"No.  How?  When?  Where?"  asked  the  other 
with  surprise. 

"Mr.  Mortimer  presented  him  to  her  at  the  bazaar 
last  week.  You  remember  that  you  gave  her  lady- 
ship permission  to  go  to  it. " 

"'Not  pei^mission,  my  little Norris, "  smiled  Eva  (as  a 
matter  of  fact  Miss  Norris  was  rather  a  large  woman). 
"My  little  sister  requires  no  one's  permission  to  go 
where  she  pleases.     Well  ?  " 

"Lady  Newark  invited  him  to  call  here  and  he  did 
so.     You  were  out.     Lady  Braintree  was  present." 

"But  how  is  it  that  I  have  not  heard  of  this  be- 
fore?" 

"We  intended  to  tell  you " 

"Naturally!" 

"But — well — the  fact  is "  Miss  Norris  hesi- 
tated. 

"Do  you  mean  that  my  little  sister — that  Lady 
Newark  asked  you  to  keep  the  matter  a  secret  from 
me?" 

Miss  Norris  signified  that  that  was  the  case,  upon 
which  Eva  coloured  and  looked  annoyed. 

"  Lady  Braintree  and  I  were  in  a  difficulty, "  pur- 
[24] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


sued  Miss  i^orris.  "Of  course  we — or  rather  I  didn't 
promise  Lady  Newark " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand  that,"  interrupted  Eva, 
who  found  her  companion's  obsequious  tone  a  little 
jarring.  "You  said  that  you  were  not  present  when 
Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  called  and  that  Lady  Braintree 
was.  Will  you  kindly  tell  Lady  Braintree  that  I 
wish  to  see  her  ? " 

Miss  Norris  rose  and  quitted  the  room,  returning  to 
it  a  few  minutes  later  with  Lady  Braintree.  The  lat- 
ter was  an  elderly  widow  of  no  means,  a  collateral  of 
the  Fitzgowers,  a  supremely  uninteresting  person, 
who  acted  as  a  chaperon  to  Eva  and  as  a  companion 
to  Lady  Newark.  (She,  Miss  Norris,  Eva,  Lady  New- 
ark, and  the  child  who  was  cutting  his  teeth  formed 
the  household. )  In  answer  to  Eva's  inquiries  Lady 
Braintree  said  that  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  had  called  at 
Lady  Newark's  invitation  and  that  the  Eoman  Church 
was  the  subject  of  their  discourse.  The  information 
was  given  reluctantly,  as  though  the  speaker  were 
betraying  a  secret  and  disliked  the  task.  She  pleaded 
deafness  and  said  that  after  all  she  may  have  been 
mistaken  as  to  the  subject  discussed  by  the  Baronet 
and  the  Marchioness;  went  on  to  say  that  as  Sir 
Ealph  was  to  call  again  this  evening  Eva  would  be 
able  to  find  out  for  herself  what  was  his  business  with 
Lady  Newark ;  and  concluded  with  the  information 
that  Mr.  Frank  Mortimer  was  at  present  with  the  last- 
named  lady  in  the  French  room.  An  intelligent  lis- 
tener would  have  guessed  three  facts  from  the  above 
colloquy :  that  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower  was  virtually  the 
[26] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


mistress  of  the  household,  that  Lady  Newark,  her 
"little  sister,"  more  accurately  her  sister-in-law,  was 
the  nominal  mistress,  and  that  the  latter  was  under 
the  surveillance  of  Miss  Norris  and  Lady  Braintree. 

Lady  Newark  was  a  widow  and  the  mother  of  the 
heir,  who  was  one  year  old.  She  was  the  sole  guard- 
ian of  the  child,  the  temporary  owner  of  Newark 
House,  Tanworth  Castle  in  the  Midlands,  and  Cottes- 
ley  Park  in  the  West  of  England,  and  the  possessor  of 
half  a  million  of  money,  the  whole  of  her  husband's 
personalty.  To  judge  from  her  conversation  with 
Mr.  Prank  Mortimer,  however,  she  was  by  no  means 
satisfied  with  her  position.  The  French  room,  in 
which  she  had  received  him,  was  a  gay  and  charming 
apartment.  It  had  been  imported  by  one  of  the 
Lords  of  Newark,  ambassador  to  the  court  of  Louis 
XV,  and  was  white  and  gold,  rococo  in  style,  and 
with  panels  twisted  into  eccentric  shapes.  These  were 
filled  in  with  Genoese  velvet,  and  showed  a  pome- 
granate pattern  of  purple  upon  a  white  ground.  The 
mantelpiece  was  of  ormolu  and  supported  by  figures 
of  goddesses  in  the  same  material;  attached  to  the 
walls  were  console  tables,  consisting  of  a  slab  of  mar- 
ble upheld  by  a  cantilever  shaped  like  a  mermaid. 
The  room  was  lit  by  candles  in  a  magnificent  ormolu 
chandelier  by  Buhl.  Lady  Newark  looked  out  of 
place  in  these  surroundings.  She  was  a  woman  of 
two-and -twenty,  small,  fair,  rather  pretty  of  a  com- 
mon type,  and  her  black  crape  dress  did  not  become 
her.  As  a  rule  her  face  lacked  expression,  and  she 
was  unnaturally  silent,  speaking  only  when  addressed ; 
[26] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


but  at  this  moment  she  was  "letting  herself  go,"  as 
she  would  have  phrased  it,  betraying  herself  with  a 
vengeance.  Her  companion,  Mr.  Frank  Mortimer, 
or  the  Hon.  Frank  Mortimer,  to  give  him  his  title, 
was  the  brother  of  one  of  the  representative  Catholic 
peers,  a  man  of  thirty,  short,  not  handsome  but  neat, 
elegant,  and  extremely  intelligent  looking.  He  had 
held  the  post  of  secretary  to  the  great  Lord  Newark, 
as  the  first  Marquis,  Lady  Eva's  father,  was  called  by 
the  members  of  the  Fitzgower  family,  and  had  been  a 
college  friend  and  a  bear  leader  to  Lord  Tanworth, 
the  very  unpromising  heir,  who  had  subsequently 
held  the  title  and  estates  for  a  few  months,  having 
shortly  before  that  taken  to  the  altar  a  lady  who 
gained  her  livelihood  by  kicking  up  her  heels.  This 
was  the  present  Lady  Newark.  In  the  absence  of 
companions  congenial  to  her  she  had  grown  into  the 
habit  of  confiding  in  Mortimer,  who  was  a  kind  and 
sympathetic  man.  He  winced,  however,  and  looked 
embarrassed  while  she  was  pouring  out  the  catalogue 
of  her  grievances,  and  when  she  stopped  he  asked : 
"But  if  you  are  unhappy  under  Lady  Eva's  regime 
why  don't  you  tell  her  so  ?  " 

"I  dare  not,"  was  the  reply.  "She  has  broken  my 
spirit.  She  is  not  intentionally  unkind ;  on  the  con- 
trary, she  intends  to  be  and  thinks  she  is  most  kind, 
and  it  is  only  fair  to  say  that  she  relieves  me  of  my 
responsibilities.  To  manage  three  establishments  is 
a  man's  work,  and  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  she 
copes  with  it.  She  makes  things  easy  for  me,  I  must 
admit  that." 

[27] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"Then  why  are  you  unhappy!  "  asked  her  compan- 
ion. 

"Because  I  am  treated  like  a  child  and  dare  not  do 
what  I  want,  say  what  I  want,  or  even  think  what  I 
want.  Because  I  come  here,  go  there,  do  this,  do 
that,  try  to  think  this,  think  that,  because  she 
expects  it  of  me.  Because  I  feel  that  her  eyes  are 
always  watching  me ! " 

"But  Lady  Eva's  methods  are  not  tyrannical," 
Mortimer  protested. 

^'Apparently  they  are  not.  She  tells  me  how  a 
woman  in  my  position  ought  to  act  and  think ;  she  says 
that  she  is  quite  certain  that  I  shall  never  depart 
from  the  traditions  of  the  family  into  which  I  have 
married — ^her  own  words;  and— and  she  looks  at 
me!" 

They  smiled, — Lady  Newark  bitterly.  "I  know 
that  it  sounds  ridiculous,"  said  she;  "but  those  eyes 
of  hers  make  my  life  a  misery  to  me.  I  feel  that  she 
is  always  watching  me  and  reading  my  thoughts,  and 
I  am  afraid  and  ashamed,  and  say  things  that  I  know 
will  please  her ;  tell  her  how  good  she  is  to  me  and 
how  thankful  I  am  to  her  and  how  I  love  her.  And 
all  the  time  I  wish  that  she  was  dead !  I  dare  not 
protest  against  anything  she  does,"  went  on  the  Mar- 
chioness. "When  we  go  to  Tanworth  or  Cottesley 
an  army  of  servants  precedes  us  and  the  big  rooms 
are  thrown  open,  just  as  they  are  here ;  but  we  never 
see  anyone  except  a  few  friends  of  the  Great  Lord  and 
the  agents  and  the  clergymen  who  hold  the  family 
livings.     And  Eva  wants  this  sort  of  life  to  go  on  till 

[28] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


my  son  comes  of  age !  She  has  heaps  of  interests  and 
a  great  deal  of  work  to  get  through;  I  haven't  any 
interests  and  have  nothing  to  do  from  morning  till 
night  except  dress,  or  be  dressed — Eva  selects  my 
toilettes — and  sit  in  a  big  room  and  try  to  look  happy 
and  say  '  Yes '  and  '  No. '  I  never  write  out  a  cheque 
except  at  her  dictation;  I  have  never  engaged  nor 
dismissed  a  servant.  I  haven't  a  friend  in  the  world 
except  you,  and  I  can't  expect  you  to  sympathise 
with  me.  I  feel  crushed,  as  though  I  can't  breathe! 
All  day  long  and  half  the  night  I  weave  plots  against 
Eva  in  my  mind  and  long  that  all  sorts  of  cruel  things 
will  happen  to  her.  I  have  often  thought  of  appeal- 
ing to  the  other  members  of  the  family,  but  I  don't 
like  to  do  so  after  their  behaviour  when  poor  Tan- 
worth  died.  Little  Newark  had  only  just  been  born 
and  I  was  in  agony,  and  they  tried  to  make  out  that 
I  wasn't  married  at  all,  and  then  that  Tanworth  was 
out  of  his  mind.  Then  Eva  quarrelled  with  them,  and 
has  never  seen  them  since,  and  came  and  nursed  me 
and  Newark.  No ;  I  couldn't  appeal  to  them  against 
her  after  that,  and  yet  I  wish  that  they  would  force 
themselves  upon  me,  for  I  would  sooner  be  with  any- 
one in  the  world  than  with  Eva ! " 

This  long  plaint  was  uttered  in  a  broken  voice  and 
with  many  interruptions.  Mortimer  tried  to  feel 
sympathy  for  the  speaker,  but  he  knew  that  Lady 
Eva  was  actuated  by  good  motives  in  controlling  her 
sister-in-law  and  he  approved  her  methods.  The 
Marchioness  was  bound  to  fall  under  the  dominion  of 
a  stronger  mind ;  if  Eva's  yoke  were  cast  off  some 
[29] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


one  else's  would  inevitably  be  substituted  for  it. 
Accordingly  Mortimer  thought  that  the  widow  had 
better  strive  to  be  contented  with  her  position,  an 
enviable  one  enough  in  many  respects  though  it 
had  its  drawbacks,  and  told  her  so,  speaking  in  a 
soothing  voice  and  uttering  a  few  platitudes  that 
had  the  effect  of  irritating  her. 

"Then  you  think  I  ought  to  go  on  submitting  to 
Eva?  "  she  asked,  showing  her  little  white  teeth. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  whereupon  she  rose  from  her  chair, 
and,  looking  at  him  doubtfully,  said:  "I  am  wonder- 
ing whether  I  shall  tell  you  about  my  little  plot. " 

"No,  no,  please  don't,  please  don't.  Lady  New- 
ark !  "  he  implored.  "Eeally  I  must  be  going  " ;  and 
he  rose  from  his  seat. 

"  Your  friend.  Sir  Ralph  Vancelour,  will  be  here  in 
a  minute  or  two, "  said  she. 

"Sir  Ealph  Vancelour!"  exclaimed  Mortimer,  re- 
suming his  seat.  "But — but  Lady  Eva  has  not  met 
him." 

The  words  were  unfortunate,  and  the  lady  was 
sharp  enough  to  detect  their  implication.  "J  have 
met  him, "  said  she ;  "  but  I  suppose  that  I  have  not 
the  right  to  ask  anyone  to  my  own  house ! " 

"Oh,  pardon  me,  Lady  Newark;  but  there  really 
is  an  understanding  between  you  and  Lady  Eva 
that " 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  said  she  vulgarly,  "make  matters 
worse !  It  was  you  who  presented  Sir  Ralph  to  me, 
so  you're  partly  responsible  for  what  I  am  going  to 
do.     Now  in  my  plot " 


[30] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"No,  no,  no,  there's  no  plot,  and  things  are  all 
right,  and  really  I  must  be  going. " 

"The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  you're  afraid  of 
Eva.  But  whether  you  like  it  or  not  you'll  be 
forced  to  support  me  if  you're  a  sincere  Catholic." 

"Sincere  Catholic?" 

"Sit  down  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  .  .  .  Now 
when  you  presented  Sir  Ralph  Vancelour  to  me  at 
that  bazaar  I  asked  him  to  call  here,  at  a  time  when  I 
knew  Eva  would  be  away  from  home,  and  he  did  so. 
But  he  was  so  stupid  and  I  was  so  much  afraid  that 
Eva  would  break  in  upon  us,  that  I  didn't  know  what 
to  say  to  him ;  and  he  was  beginning  to  look  fright- 
ened when  in  sheer  desperation  I  asked  him  about 
his  uncle,  Monsignor  Vancelour,  whom  Eva's  always 
talking  about.  To  please  him  I  said  that  I  admired 
the  Eomish  Church,  and  ran  on  about  the  subject 
without  thinking  of  what  I  was  saying,  till  he  seemed 
to  gather  the  impression  that  I  wished  to  become  a 
Romanist  myself.  I  allowed  him  to  remain  under  the 
impression — why,  I  don't  know — probably  because  it 
was  my  easiest  course ;  but  since  then  I  have  been 
thinking  that  it  would  be  a  good  move  on  my  part  to 
become  a  Romanist,  at  all  events  for  a  time.  You  see 
Eva  herself  is — how  did  you  put  it*? — coquetting? — 
yes,  coquetting  with  Rome,  so  that  she  could  not 
blame  me  for  following  her  example.  Then  if  I  be- 
come a  Romanist  the  news  of  my  change  of  creed  will 
reach  the  other  members  of  the  family — Lady  Cater- 
ham,  the  Bishop,  Colonel  Fitzgower — and  they  will 
insist  upon  seeing  me  in  spite  of  Eva.  Then  I  shall 
[31] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


tell  them  that  she  was  responsible  for  my  chauge  of 
creed,  and  then  perhaps  I  shall  escape  from  her  yoke 
— to  fall  under  that  of  some  other  member  of  the  fam- 
ily, no  doubt,  but  there  cannot  be  such  another  tyrant 
in  the  world  as  Eva !  I  shall  then  allow  myself  to  be 
converted  back  again  to  the  English  church.  But 
if  the  news  of  my  change  of  creed  falls  flat,  I  shall 
remain  a  Eomanist,  and  prompt  my  father  confessor 
to  advise  me  to  do  the  things  I  want  to  do,  so  that 
when  Eva  objects  or  looks  at  me  with  those  horrible 
eyes  of  hei-s  I  shall  say,  '  But,  my  dear  Eva,  I  must 
obey  my  father  confessor,  who  doesn't  think  it  good 
that  I  should  lead  so  solitary  a  life, '  and  so  forth  and 
so  forth.  You  see  if  he  backs  me  up,  as  of  course  he 
will,  I  shall  be  able  to  look  Eva  in  the  face  when  I'm 
disregarding  her  wishes ! " 

"  Well,  of  all  the  perverse  ingenuity ! "  Morti- 
mer began,  when  the  door  was  opened  and  Sir  Ealph 
Vancelour  announced. 

The  Baronet  was  a  tall,  awkward,  unprepossessing 
looking  man  of  six-and-twenty,  ignorant  and  narrow- 
minded,  but  simple,  honourable,  and  profoundly  reli- 
gious. His  ungainly  figure  was  clad  in  a  shabby 
evening  suit,  and  his  face  looked  unwashed,  but  that 
may  have  been  the  eflFect  of  his  cadaverous  com- 
plexion. 

Mortimer  observed  that  Lady  Newark  directed  a 
look  of  appeal  at  the  newcomer  while  shaking  hands 
with  him,  and  that  Sir  Ealph  nodded  reassuringly  in 
return.  The  young  men  were  in  the  same  circle  and 
distantly  connected,  but  they  were  not  very  friendly ; 

[32] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


they  exchanged  a  curt  nod  of  recognition;  and  the 
trio  were  about  to  seat  themselves  when  the  door  was 
again  opened  and  Eva  and  Lady  Braintree  appeared. 
The  girl  entered  the  room  with  a  slow  and  stately 
step,  and,  making  her  way  towards  her  "  little  sister, " 
glanced  down  upon  her  with  a  smile  and  inquired 
after  her  health.  There  was  an  air  of  protectorship, 
almost  of  proprietorship,  about  her  manner;  it  was 
as  though  she  were  addressing  a  sick  child  who  had 
been  placed  under  her  charge ;  and  one  could  imagine 
that  if  the  occasion  had  been  an  ordinary  one  and  the 
young  men  not  present,  the  Marchioness  would  have 
put  up  her  face  to  be  kissed,  fondled  her  sister-in- 
law's  arm,  or  indulged  in  some  kittenish  form  of 
caress.  But  the  widow  had  a  part  to  play  this  evening, 
and  she  avoided  the  girl's  eye,  and  tried  to  look  very 
serious,  but  really  looked  what  she  felt,  very  guilty, 
a  revolter  against  authority.  However,  Eva  turned 
aside  apparently  without  noticing  that  there  was  any- 
thing amiss  with  her,  and  gave  her  hand  to  Mortimer, 
looking  at  him  frankly  with  her  beautiful  eyes.  She 
then  stood  close  to  Sir  Ralph,  in  order  to  give  the 
Marchioness  an  opportunity  of  presenting  that  stran- 
ger to  her ;  but  Lady  Newark  hesitated,  her  fear  of 
Eva  having  revived,  and  it  was  Mortimer  who  pre- 
sented the  Baronet.  "The  nephew  of  Monsignor 
Vancelour,"  he  explained. 

Sir  Ralph  stared  at  Eva,  but  not  with  admiring 
eyes.  "  I  have  seen  you, "  said  he,  as  though  she  were 
going  to  dispute  the  fact,  "at  St.  Peter's  Church." 

"Yes?  I  have  often  been  there,"  she  returned. 
8  [33] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"Indeed,  I  was  there  to-day;  and,"  she  added,  ad- 
dressing the  company,  "  I  had  an  artistic  treat.  There 
was  a  young  person,  an  organist,  in  the  church,  and 
he  had  come  to  play  for  the  first  time " 

"So  they've  finished  that  organ,  have  they?"  in- 
terrupted Sir  Ealph  brusquely. 

Eva  turned  and  looked  at  the  uncouth  creature, 
but  he  was  not  abashed  by  her  glance.  "  I  am  with 
Father  Macdonald,"  said  he,  "and  we  make  no  pre- 
tence of  liking  that  organ. " 

"  In  that  case  it  would  scarcely  do  for  me  to  praise 
it,"  said  she. 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  force  my  opinion  upon  any- 
body, "  said  the  Baronet,  and  his  tone  was  so  unpleas- 
ant, though  apparently  he  did  not  mean  it  to  be  so, 
that  Eva  lifted  her  shoulders  and  was  silent. 

"  And  of  course  my  uncle  knows  a  great  deal  more 
about  music  than  Father  Macdonald  or  I  do, "  w^ent  on 
the  Baronet.     "  You  liked  the  organ  f  " 

"I  thought  it  magnificent, "  said  she,  "and  it  was 
magnificently  played  by  M.  de  Keramur." 

"  We  have  great  faith  in  M.  de  Keramur, "  put  in 
Mortimer,  "and  he  has  great  faith  in  himself.  I 
know  him  a  little,  though  I  doubt  that  he  would  allow 
me  to  claim  him  as  an  acquaintance.  He  is  a  mightily 
exclusive  person. " 

Eva  smiled.  "Is  hel"  she  asked,  and  then:  "He 
was  very  kind  to  me,"  she  observed  characteristically. 

The  Baronet's  eye  was  upon  Lady  Newark,  who 
chose  a  moment  when  the  attention  of  the  others  was 
engaged  for  shaking  her  head.     How  could  she  allude 

[34] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


to  her  religious  inclinations  in  general  company'! 
And  yet  she  felt  more  courage  in  the  presence  of  the 
two  Catholic  gentlemen  than  she  felt  when  she  was 
alone  with  Eva.  She  would  never  dare  to  hint  at  the 
idea  of  changing  her  creed  to  Eva  privately,  and  it 
was  not  likely  she  would  have  a  more  favourable 
opportunity  of  introducing  the  subject  than  was  pre- 
sented to  her  at  this  moment.  Eva  herself  had  just 
referred  to  her  visit  to  St.  Peter's  Church,  and  the 
conversation  might  easily  be  brought  to  a  point  at 
which  the  Marchioness  could,  without  irrelevance  or  a 
noticeable  departure  from  conventional  speech,  throw 
in  a  remark  as  to  her  own  religious  inclinations,  and 
thus  prepare  her  sister-in-law  for  the  announcement 
of  her  contemplated  change  of  creed.  But  a  sense 
of  guilt  held  her  tongue,  and  she  abandoned  all  hope 
of  carrying  out  her  project. 

But  the  Baronet  had  come  to  the  house  with  a 
purpose,  and  he  intended  to  fulfil  it.  The  Marchioness 
wished  to  join  the  Church,  but  dared  not  do  so  "be- 
cause of  the  family,"  and  chiefly,  as  she  had  given 
him  to  understand,  "because  of  Lady  Eva  Fitzgow- 
er " ;  and  he  had  come  to  do  battle  with  the  girl  on 
behalf  of  the  persecuted  widow.  All  this  was  plain 
to  Mortimer,  who  dreaded  a  scene,  and  who  was 
carrying  on  a  perfunctory  conversation  with  Eva  upon 
the  subject  of  music.  And  Eva  herself  was  conscious 
that  there  was  something  in  the  air  and  that  the 
Baronet's  visit  was  connected  with  it,  but  she  was 
unwilling  to  ask  for  an  explanation  while  that  stranger 
was  present.  "Keep  up  my  music?  "  she  was  saying 
[36] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


to  Mortimer,  when  Sir  Ealph,  who  had  the  manners 
of  a  boor,  interposed:  "Did  you  see  my  uncle  when 
you  were  at  the  church  1 " 

"  Yes, "  she  replied. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  him?"  said  the 
Baronet,  turning  to  Lady  Newark. 

"Yes,"  said  she  with  a  little  burst  of  courage. 
"  My  sister  has  often  spoken  about  him.  You  might 
bring  him  here." 

At  that  Eva  broke  off  her  conversation  with  Morti- 
mer, and  glancing  at  the  widow — one  of  the  glances 
that  the  Marchioness  dreaded  —  said:  "Catholic 
priests  call  only  upon  the  members  of  their  own 
flock." 

"You  ai-e  mistaken,"  said  Sir  Ealph.  "Besides 
which,  Lady  Newark  wishes  to  join  us." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Eva,  and  turning 
away  from  him  she  looked  inquiringly  at  the  Mar- 
chioness. 

"  Like  yourself  I  feel  the  attraction  of  Eomanism, 
that  is  all,"  said  the  latter  in  a  feeble  tone. 

Eva's  astonishment  was  such  that  she  lost  control 
of  her  tongue.  "  You  have  no  religious  convictions 
of  any  kind,  my  dear, "  said  she. 

"You  have  no  right  to  assume  that,"  said  the 
Baronet  sharply. 

The  girl  started  at  this  piece  of  insolence  and  glared 
at  the  speaker,  but  she  said  nothing;  and  then  she 
and  Mortimer,  who  was  experiencing  a  creepy  feeling 
down  his  spine,  and  Lady  Braintree  were  the  witnesses 
of  a  strange  ceremony. 

[36] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Pardon  me,"  said  the  Barouet,  and  rising  to  his 
feet  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  company  and  bowed 
his  head.  Then  he  faced  the  Marchioness,  holding  in 
his  hand  a  silver  cross.  "It  belonged  to  my  dear 
mother,"  said  he  in  a  solemn  tone.  "God  rest  her 
soul !  The  chasing  is  the  work  of  St.  Ladislaus,  one 
of  the  last  of  the  martyrs.  You  see  this  dent, "  said 
he,  showing  it  her.  "He  made  it  with  his  fingers  in 
a  moment  of  great  agony  when  he  was  being  tortured. 
The  cross  was  laid  upon  the  breast  of  the  Empress 
Maria-Hilda  when  she  was  dying."  Thereupon  he 
submitted  the  relic  to  Lady  Newark,  who  imitated  his 
action  and  kissed  it.  "Pardon  me,  Lady  Eva,"  said 
he;  "but  you  are  not  in  the  disposition  to  join  the 
Church;  Lady  l^ewark  is,  and  that  is  why  I  have 
allowed  her  to  kiss  the  cross."  Then  turning  again  to 
the  Marchioness  he  addressed  these  words  to  her :  "  I 
will  introduce  you  by  letter  to  Father  Macdonald,  who 
will  instruct  you  in  the  articles  of  the  faith ;  after 
which  you  had  better  spend  some  time  in  retreat  and 
prepare  yourself  for  a  general  confession.  Father 
Macdonald  will  do  everything  in  his  power  for  you, 
as  indeed  he  would  for  anyone  who  approaches  him 
in  the  right  disposition." 

It  was  scarcely  correct  to  say  that  Mortimer  and 
Lady  Braintree  were  witnesses  of  this  ceremony,  for 
the  former's  eyes  were  upon  the  ground  and  the 
latter's  upon  the  tip  of  her  nose  while  it  was  in  prog- 
ress. Eva  would  seem  to  have  been  more  struck  by 
the  faith  and  courage  of  the  Baronet  than  by  his  un- 
conventionality  and  strange  sense  of  what  was  becom- 
[37] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ing  in  a  drawing-room,  for  she  watched  him  with 
some  curiosity  and  with  some  admiration.  But  when 
he  had  finished  speaking  a  look  of  determination  came 
to  her  face,  and  her  final  salute  of  him  was  frigidly 
polite. 

As  he  quitted  the  room  Sir  Ealph  motioned  Morti- 
mer to  follow  him ;  but  Eva  came  forward  and  said : 
"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you,  Mr.  Mortimer.  Will  you 
kindly  wait  in  the  morning-room ! "  and  he  descended 
the  stair  in  the  wake  of  the  Baronet,  and  entered  an 
apartment  that  opened  out  from  the  hall  as  the  street 
door  was  shut  upon  Sir  Ralph. 

Mortimer  was  kept  waiting  twenty  minutes  or  half- 
an-hour,  and  his  reflections  were  bitter.  "  I  shall  be 
blamed  for  this, "  he  thought,  and  then  asked  himself 
for  the  hundredth  time  why  he  continued  to  dance 
attendance  upon  the  members  of  the  Fitzgower  fam- 
ily. He  was  upon  a  footing  of  intimacy  with  them 
all,  with  Eva  and  the  Marchioness  who  represented 
the  one  faction,  and  with  Lady  Caterham,  Eva's  aunt, 
the  Bishop  |of  Wintou,  and  Colonel  the  Hon.  Percy 
Fitzgower,  her  uncles,  and  Alec,  her  cousin,  who  rep- 
resented the  other  faction.  All  these  persons  treated 
him  as  one  of  themselves.  The  ladies  discussed  their 
intimate  affairs  in  his  presence  and  sometimes  asked 
his  advice  thereupon;  they  likewise  sent  him  upon 
errands,  asked  him  to  perform  odd  jobs,  and  gave 
him  commissions  to  execute,  some  of  which  entailed 
a  great  loss  of  time  and  not  a  few  of  which  entailed 
even  a  loss  of  money.  Moreover,  they  allowed 
themselves  a  freedom  and  a  frankness  when  address- 
[38] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


ing  him  that  they  would  never  have  employed  towards 
a  professional  man  or  even  to  a  servant.  If  they 
were  in  a  good  humour  they  were  exceedingly  pleas- 
ant to  him ;  if  in  a  bad  humour  they  vented  it  upon 
him.  The  disadvantages  of  his  position  in  regard  to 
the  Fitzgowers  outweighed  the  advantages;  but  he 
loved  Eva,  though  in  a  quite  hopeless  fashion,  and 
had  not  the  strength  of  mind  to  keep  away  from 
her. 

At  length  the  girl  appeared,  her  face  flushed,  her 
brows  drawn.  "I  do  not  think  it  kind  of  you  to 
have  brought  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  here,"  said  she  in 
a  restrained  voice.  "  You  know  my  wishes  about  my 
little  sister,  and  how  careful  I  have  always  been  to 
shield  her  from — from  bad  influences." 

"But  I  didn't  bring  him  here,"  Mortimer  protested. 
"Lady  Newark  invited  him." 

"He's  not  a  gentleman." 

"He's  a  boor." 

"He  has  been  discussing  religion  with  her  and 
trying  to  unsettle  her  mind.  I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved such  a  thing  possible.  Such  cowardly  conduct! 
She's  terribly  distressed  and  keeps  on  saying  that  she 
must  obey  the  voice  of  her  conscience." 

"Well,  but  that's  true,  isn't  it?"  asked  Mortimer 
with  a  queer  smile. 

"I  don't  understand  you.  What  do  you  meant 
Oh  yes,  yes,  I  see.  But  my  little  sister  has  no  reli- 
gious convictions,  and  the  idea  that  she  should  change 
her  creed  is  preposterous,  out  of  the  question!  Of 
course  you  realise  thatt " 

[39] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"No,  I  don't  realise  it.  You  forget  that  I  myself 
am  a  Catholic." 

She  eyed  him  contemptuously,  and  her  tongue  ran 
away  with  her.  "  You — ^yes,  of  course,  your  family 
is  Catholic.  You — you  are  a  Neo-Catholic,  I  have 
heard  you  say:  a  fearful  sort  of  wild  fowl!"  But 
she  blushed  to  the  forehead  after  uttering  these  words. 
"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she.  "I  am  so  much  dis- 
tressed and  did  not  think  what  I  was  saying.  I  hope 
that  you  will  forgive  me.  Ah,  you  will?  You  are 
always  so  kind. "  With  that  she  took  an  easy-chair 
and  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 

The  hour  was  late,  the  light  dim.  He  was  alone 
with  the  beautiful  girl ;  but  his  knowledge  that  she 
would  not  have  granted  a  Ute-a-Ute  in  such  conditions 
to  any  other  young  man  failed  to  yield  him  much 
gratification.  She  had  known  him  since  her  child- 
hood and  was  in  the  habit  of  discussing  herself  with 
him,  relating  her  mental  history  with  extraordinaiy 
frankness ;  but  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  employ  the 
slightest  accent  of  familiarity,  nor  even,  he  felt,  to 
observe  her  beauty,  her  glowing  charms :  the  restraint 
imposed  upon  him  was  indeed  greater  than  that 
imposed  upon  young  men  who  meet  young  women  in 
ordinary  conditions.  And  at  times  he  was  disposed 
to  judge  her  from  a  strictly  conventional  standpoint, 
to  blame  her  for  alloM'^ing  herself  so  much  liberty,  the 
while  condemning  himself  for  a  despicable  prig.  It 
was  impossible  for  him  not  to  feel  the  glamour  of  her 
presence ;  when  she  entered  the  room  she  charged  it 
with  thrilling  influences  for  him ;  and  that  she  on  her 
[40] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


side  should  feel  so  safe  and  be  at  such  ease  in  Ms  com- 
pany was  not  altogether  gratifying  to  Mr.  Mortimer. 
He  was  in  the  unfortunate  position  of  a  man  who 
loves  a  woman  and  is  liked  very  much  in  return,  but 
who  knows  that  if  he  declared  himself  he  would 
forfeit  her  friendship  and  make  her  unhappy. 

As  he  had  expected,  she  gave  him  an  account  of  her 
visit  to  St.  Peter's  and  her  meeting  with  Monsignor ; 
and  then  went  on  to  speak  of  the  Eoman  Church, 
which  now  attracted  and  anon  repelled  her.  "Eome 
fascinates  me,"  said  she,  "and  has  got  a  firm  hold 
upon  my  mind.  I  cannot  shake  it  off.  I  wish  I 
could." 

"  You  feel  the  magnetic  influence  of  Eome?  " 

"Yes;  that  exactly  describes  it.  But  Eome  de- 
mands so  much — too  much — much  too  much ! " 

"  And  you  are  not  inclined  to  submit  ? " 

"I  do  not  know.  At  times — yes;  at  other  times — 
no.  If  I  become  a  Catholic  I  shall  probably  take  the 
veil.  There  is  more  happiness  in  the  convent  than  in 
the  world." 

At  that  Mortimer  smiled. 

"  It  is  very  inconsistent  of  me, "  she  went  on ;  "  but 
I  think  that  if  I  were  an  autocratic  sovereign  I  should 
persecute  the  Eoman  Church ;  as  it  is  I  feel  that  if  I 
don't  become  a  Catholic,  which  is  more  than  likely,  I 
shall  become  very  hostile  to  Eome. " 

Mortimer  was  amused.  "I  hope,"  said  he,  "that 
you  will  never  be  found  among  the  enemies  of  Eome, 
the  Mother  of  Saints." 

"I  am  not  sure.     Perhaps  I  shall." 
[41] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"You  will  have  a  powerful  antagonist." 

"Ah,  yes." 

"Pardon  me,  Lady  Eva,  but  I  think  that  you  will 
be  worsted  in  the  struggle." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"That  Eome  will  get  the  better  of  you.  You  have 
tried  to  thrust  the  idea  altogether  from  your  mind  ? " 

"Yes  and  failed." 

"  Then  submit  at  once.  In  the  long  run  Eome  will 
force  you  to  submit,  and  on  harsher  terms  than  at 
present.  She  will  make  you  eat  humble-pie  and 
acknowledge  your  wicked  obstinacy  in  resisting  her." 

"But  I  can  go  on  resisting  her." 

"Then  she  will  be  i*evenged  upon  you.  You  will 
lose  your  faith  in  the  process." 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  much  faith — ^any  faith." 

"  Ah,  but  you  crave  for  it ! " 

"Really,  Mr.  Mortimer!" 

"You  must  pardon  me.     You  began  it." 

She  turned  her  beautiful  eyes  upon  him  and  smiled. 
"I  must  ask  your  pardon  for  what  I  am  going  to 
say,"  said  she.  "It  is  very  rude.  But  do  you  know 
that  I  feel  more  respect  for  you  than  I  ever  felt  be- 
fore?" 

"Why!" 

"Because  I  now  believe  that  you  are  really  a  sin- 
cere Catholic  for  all  your  speculative  theories.  I  be- 
lieve that  you  are  a  subtle  proselytiser. " 

"A  proselytiser!"  he  repeated,  and  then  forgot 
himself  and  asked,  "Do  you  like  proselytisers! " 

"They're  very  useful  persons  sometimes,"  said 
[42] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


she,  which  was  a  disappointing  answer.  "But  the 
mediaeval  methods  were  best, " 

"Pardon  me." 

"I  mean  that  thej  forced  the  faith  upon  people." 

"Do  you  want  anyone  to  force  Catholicism  upon 
you?" 

"No  one  could.     It  is  not  permitted  in  these  days." 

"I  think  I  understand  you,"  said  Mortimer. 

"I  hope  Monsignor  Vancelour  will.  I  have  ar- 
ranged an  interview  with  him  for  Thursday  in  next 
week.     I  almost  wish  I  had  not  done  so. " 

"And  Lady  Newark?"  asked  Mortimer,  and  then 
regretted  having  changed  the  subject. 

"  Ah,  my  little  sister ! "  Saying  which  Eva  rose  to 
her  feet.  "  Of  course  you  understand  that  Sir  Ealph 
must  not  come  here  again, "  said  she.  "  You  might  tell 
him  so.     Will  you?    You  are  always  so  kind." 

After  a  little  hesitation  Mortimer  undertook  to  do 
what  she  asked  of  him. 

"  Thank  you  so  much ! "  and  then  she  repeated  the 
phrase  that  irritated  him,  "  You  are  always  so  kind ! " 

She  gave  him  her  hand  and  he  took  it,  allowing  his 
eyes  to  linger  on  her ;  then  he  dropped  them  before 
her  own  beautiful  eyes  that  glanced  at  him  so  frank- 
ly, so  trustingly,  and  bade  her  "  Good-bye ! "  in  the 
most  conventional  manner. 


[43] 


CHAPTBE  IV 

A  Glimpse  into  the  Past 

The  Great  Lord  Newark  (as  Eva's  father  was 
called  Dy  the  members  of  the  family)  was  a  man  uni- 
versally respected.  He  had  held  the  office  of  Viceroy 
of  India  and  several  Cabinet  appointments,  and  had 
been  raised  to  the  marquisate ;  he  had  won  favourable 
notice  as  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  letters ;  and  he  had 
achieved  great  popularity  by  his  amiable  character 
and  lavish  hospitalities.  Soon  after  quitting  India  he 
had  lost  his  wife,  and  his  sister,  Lady  Caterham,  a 
childless  widow,  had  come  to  his  aid,  helped  him  to 
entertain  his  guests,  and  discharged  the  office  of  chap- 
eron to  Lady  Eva.  Presented  in  her  seventeenth 
year,  Eva  was  the  reigning  beauty  of  two  seasons  and 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  girls  of  her  time ;  wherever 
she  went  she  was  the  centre  of  attraction,  and  the 
flattery  and  homage  she  received  were  enough  to  turn 
any  woman's  brain.  She  allowed  herself  more  free- 
dom than  was  usual  with  girls  of  her  age  and  rank, 
and  ofiFended  her  aunt's  strait-laced  notions ;  but  her 
father  would  not  allow  anyone  to  interfere  with  her, 
and  society  regarded  her  as  a  privileged  person.  In 
the  meantime  her  brother.  Lord  Tanworth,  had  been 
sent  down  from  Oxford  and  was  leading  a  disreputa- 
ble life  in  the  metropolis.  Such  was  the  state  of 
[44] 


THE   CxYTHOLIC 


affairs  when  a  report  that  Lord  Newark  had  seceded 
to  Eome  found  its  way  into  print  and  was  contra- 
dicted. The  next  important  event  in  the  history  of  the 
family  was  Eva's  engagement  to  the  Duke  of  Oak- 
ham. He  was  the  man  of  her  own  choice,  and  her 
father  and  aunt  approved  the  match,  but  her  brother, 
of  all  men  in  the  world,  raised  objections  to  it  on  the 
ground  of  the  Duke's  private  character.  The  engage- 
ment was  announced,  however,  and  in  the  following 
week  Lord  N^ewark  died,  suddenly  and  unexpectedly, 
from  the  effects  of  a  chill  caught  in  the  hunting-field. 
This  was  a  great  blow  to  Eva,  between  whom  and  her 
father  there  had  subsisted  a  great  affection,  and  her 
sense  of  loss  was  accentuated  by  the  fact  that  she 
was  not  in  sympathy  with  the  other  members  of  her 
family.  Her  marriage  was  of  course  postponed,  and 
for  several  months  she  lived  in  retirement. 

Meanwhile  the  Fitzgowers  were  kept  in  a  state  of 
anxiety  and  suspense  by  the  random  courses  of  Tan- 
worth,  as  they  called  him  even  after  he  had  succeeded 
to  the  title  and  estates.  They  paid  no  attention  to 
his  vague  hints  against  the  Duke  of  Oakham,  Eva's 
fianeS,  and  some  six  months  after  the  death  of  the 
Great  Lord  Newark,  Lady  Caterham  convened  a 
family  council,  inviting  her  brothers,  the  Bishop  of 
Winton,  and  Colonel  the  Hon.  Percy  Fitzgower,  to  her 
house  for  the  purpose  of  discussing  her  niece's  mar- 
riage. The  young  Marquis  turned  up  unexpectedly 
at  this  assembly,  and  startled  his  relatives  by  bring- 
ing several  charges  of  seduction  and  revolting  cruelty 
against  the  Duke,  and  undertaking  to  support  them 
[45] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


by  irrefragable  e^•idence.  Three  terrible  weeks  en- 
sued. Eva  refused  to  throw  up  her  eugagement. 
Exhortations  were  tried  in  vain ;  Newark  threatened 
to  shoot  the  Duke  if  he  did  not  quit  the  country ;  but 
Eva  stuck  to  her  JiancS,  in  the  belief  that  he  was  the 
victim  of  a  slander.  For  the  Duke  protested  his  in- 
nocence and  was  apparently  a  man  above  the  average ; 
it  was  in  the  highest  degree  unlikely  that  his  life  was 
an  outrage  upon  humanity.  Nevertheless  he  finally 
acknowledged  his  guilt  in  the  most  tragic  fashion  by 
committing  suicide,  planning  the  act  so  carefully  that 
it  was  publicly  supposed  to  have  been  the  result  of  an 
accident. 

Eva  received  a  terrific  shock.  She  had  loved  the 
man  with  all  her  heart  and  believed  firmly  in  his  in- 
nocence, but  proof  of  his  guilt  was  forced  upon  her, 
and  the  tragedy  almost  unseated  her  reason.  She  hid 
herself  from  her  fellow-creatures,  for  a  time  in  the 
humble  lodgings  of  a  poor  kinswoman,  Lady  Brain- 
tree,  and  after  that  in  Cottesley  Park,  her  brother's 
West-country  seat. 

She  was  still  at  Cottesley  and  in  a  state  of  apathy, 
when  she  received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  which 
contained  three  important  announcements :  his  secret 
marriage  with  a  dancing-woman,  his  wife's  expecta- 
tion of  a  child,  and  his  own  approaching  decease  from 
consumption.  He  wrote  to  implore  Eva  to  receive 
him  and  his  wife  at  Cottesley,  nurse  them,  and  shield 
them  from  the  other  members  of  the  family.  Eva 
aroused  herself  from  her  stupor,  and  yielded  to  his 
requests.  The  sick  pair  turned  up  in  due  course  at 
[46] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Cottesley,  and  in  the  three  mouths  that  ensued  Lord 
Newark  grew  rapidly  worse.  He  was  spared  to  see 
his  child,  however,  and  while  of  sound  mind  made  his 
will,  leaving  his  personalty  to  his  wife  and  appoint- 
ing her  sole  guardian  of  his  son.  Then  he  died  and 
his  body  was  removed  to  Tan  worth  Castle ;  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  including  Eva,  attended  his  obse- 
quies ;  and  the  will  was  read.  The  family  determined 
to  dispute  it,  in  spite  of  Eva's  protests,  and  set  on 
foot  inquiries  to  ascertain  whether  the  young  Marquis 
had  been  legally  married  and  whether  he  had  been 
sane  when  making  his  will.  While  these  investiga- 
tions were  in  progress,  Eva  returned  to  Cottesley  and 
found  the  Marchioness  and  her  son  hovering  between 
life  and  death.  Two  weeks  later  the  family  aban- 
doned their  intention  of  disputing  the  will,  and 
through  Eva  expressed  their  wish  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Marchioness;  but  Eva,  who  was 
angry  with  them,  rejected  their  overtures  on  behalf 
of  the  sick  woman.  Injudicious  letters  were  ex- 
changed, and  then  all  intercourse  between  the  girl 
and  her  relatives  ceased.  It  thus  happened  that 
Lady  Newark  had  never  even  seen  any  of  the  Fitz- 
gowers  with  the  exception  of  her  sister-in-law. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  a  year  before  this  nar- 
rative opened.  Having  taken  possession  of  the 
widow  and  her  son,  so  to  speak,  Eva  proceeded  to 
lay  down  a  rule  of  life  for  them  and  herself,  and  to 
establish  her  authority  at  Newark  House,  Tanworth 
Castle,  and  Cottesley  Park.  Her  methods  have  been 
described  by  her  sister-in-law.  She,  Lady  Newark, 
[47] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


and  the  little  Marquis,  with  Lady  Braintree  and  Miss 
Norris,  lived  in  magnificent  retirement,  now  in  the 
London  house,  now  in  the  country  mansions,  all  three 
places  being  kept  up  in  state  at  an  enonnous  expense. 
But  the  control  of  the  Marchioness  and  the  manage- 
ment of  the  households  did  not  satisfy  the  cravings, 
the  hungry  needs  of  Eva's  soul.  A  yearning,  wistful 
expression,  to  which  attention  has  already  been 
called,  had  settled  upon  her  countenance ;  she  wanted 
spiritual  consolation  and  a  guide  in  her  progress 
through  this  wilderness  of  a  world.  For  reasons — 
inadequate  enough — which  she  was  to  describe  in  her 
next  interview  with  Monsignor  Vancelour,  she  had 
practically  lost  her  faith  in  the  heyday  of  her  social 
triumphs,  and  the  circumstance  had  not  troubled  her 
at  the  time ;  but  when  the  joy  departed  from  her  life 
she  felt  the  need  of  religion.  This  want  led  her  one 
day  into  St.  Peter's  Church,  which  stood  almost 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  Newark  House;  and  the 
beautiful  building,  the  gorgeous  ritual  and  music,  and 
the  eloquence  of  Monsignor  Vancelour  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  her  mind.  Thenceforth  her  thoughts 
dwelt  constantly  upon  the  Eoman  Church.  She  was 
an  aristocrat,  and  the  history,  wide  dominion,  auto- 
cratic rule,  unflinching  attitude,  haughty  exclusive 
spirit  of  Rome  awoke  her  admiration.  She  was  at 
the  same  time  an  emotional  woman,  and  had  loved 
much,  suffered  much, — lost  all,  she  would  have  added ; 
and  she  craved  for  the  consolation  Eome  offers  to  the 
pierced  heart.  She  longed  for  the  close  communion 
with  God  that  Rome  claims  to  bring  about  through 
[48] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


her  sacraments ;  the  ritual,  the  art,  the  accessories  of 
Catholic  worship  impressed  her;  her  emotions  were 
kindled,  her  imagination  was  enchanted  by  that 
strange  and  wonderful  system ;  unconsciously  she  was 
yielding  to  the  "  magnetic  inJBluence. "  But  at  length 
she  awoke  to  a  sense  of  what  was  happening  in  her, 
and  thenceforth  began  to  struggle  against  the  attrac- 
tion. Mortimer  spoke  of  her  as  coquetting  with 
Eome;  he  might  almost  have  said  that  she  was  co- 
quetting with  Monsignor  Vancelour,  for  of  late  that 
priest  had  impersonated  Eome  for  her.  She  paid 
visits,  surreptitious  visits  they  might  be  called,  to  St. 
Peter's,  and  watched  him  as  he  said  the  Mass,  as  he 
walked  in  procession,  wearing  a  splendid  cope,  holding 
up  the  monstrance  while  the  choir  sang  the  grandest 
of  the  Gregorian  hymns,  the  Pange  Lingua,  and  as  in 
simple  eloquence  he  held  forth  upon  the  astounding 
claims  of  Eome.  He  was  a  sacerdotalist  and  looked 
the  part ;  he  had  the  power,  or  the  audacity  to  claim 
the  power,  of  calling  down  upon  the  altar  the  Saviour 
of  Mankind !  He  was  armed  with  the  spiritual  might 
of  Eome !  And  at  times  she  regarded  him  with  awe 
and  wonder  as  a  being  lifted  far  above  the  level  of 
ordinary  humanity,  and  at  other  times  as  an  auda- 
cious if  superb  impostor. 

It  was  as  though  she  were  defying  Eome  to  conquer 
her,  taunting  Eome  in  the  spirit  of  the  coquette;  as 
though  she  said :  "  You  attracted  me  when  I  was  off 
my  guard,  subtly,  cunningly  gained  an  influence  over 
me.  A  weaker  woman  would  succumb  to  you  or 
take  refuge  in  flight.  I  shall  do  neither."  Well,  the 
4  [49] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


first  of  her  encounters,  so  to  call  them,  with  Eome,  as 
impersonated  by  Monsignor,  has  been  described.  It 
had  heightened  her  interest,  but  stimulated  her  feeling 
of  antagonism.  She  had  a  sense  that  she  had  been 
snubbed,  that  an  attempt,  and  a  not  altogether  unsuc- 
cessful attempt,  had  been  made  to  wound  her  pride. 


[50] 


CHAPTER  V 

Ebnebt  de  Keramue 

The  young  organist,  Ernest  de  Keramur,  had  been 
brought  up  with  the  idea  that  he  was  an  aristocrat  of 
the  purest  water.  He  had  recollections  of  a  visit  to 
his  birthplace  with  his  father,  who  had  shown  him  the 
extensive  domains  that  were  till  recently  in  the  pos- 
session of  his  family ;  he  also  remembered  a  sojourn 
in  Paris  where  he  had  been  presented  to  some  of  the 
leading  members  of  the  Legitimatist  party.  He  had 
bent  his  knee  to  his  sovereign,  Henri  V,  and  been 
patted  on  the  head  by  that  noble-hearted  gentleman. 
But  these  were  memories  of  the  remote  past  when 
Ernest  was  little  more  than  a  child.  His  father  had 
died  in  debt,  his  mother's  fortune  had  dwindled,  and 
the  Keramurs  were  too  proud  to  beg  of  their  august 
friends.  The  question  whether  Ernest  was  too  proud 
to  learn  a  profession  had  arisen  in  the  more  recent 
past.  Monsignor  Vancelour  had  debated  it  with  him. 
Madame  de  Keramur  would  not  hear  of  her  son's 
becoming  a  professional  man,  but  Ernest  was  more 
reasonable,  though  only  a  lad  at  the  time.  Monsignor 
had  spoken  frankly  to  him.  "Your  mother  has  bare- 
ly enough  money  to  live  upon  in  comfort,"  said  he. 
"Your  friends  in  France  may  have  influence,  but 
you  cannot  count  upon  their  using  it  on  your  behalf. 
[51] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Your  best  course  would  be  to  learn  a  profession." 
Ernest  agreed  to  this,  and  chose  his  profession, 
whereupon  the  priest  said:  "Your  mother's  health 
does  not  permit  her  to  go  into  society,  indeed  she 
does  not  wish  to  make  new  friends,  but  I  know 
that  she  would  like  me  to  introduce  you  to  Catholics 
of  birth  and  position.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  do  so, 
my  boy.  At  present  this  means  very  little  to  you, 
but  when  you  get  older  you  will  feel  the  need  of  com- 
panions. You  will  have  to  choose  them  from  the 
professional  class,  and  to  consider  youi-self  a  member 
of  that  class.  You  will  have  to  work  very,  very  hard 
if  you  are  to  achieve  success  as  a  musician." 

Since  that  time  the  mother  and  son  had  lived  in  re- 
tirement. Occasionally  one  of  the  old  French  noblesse 
called  upon  them;  Cardinal  Grimsby  visited  them 
twice  a  year,  but  Ernest  formed  no  friendships  among 
his  fellow-musicians.  Some  few  years  before  this 
narrative  opened  Monsignor  Vancelour  had  promised 
him  the  appointment  of  organist  of  St.  Peter's  Church 
when  and  if  it  became  vacant ;  at  about  the  same  time 
the  youth  had  begun  to  dream,  not  of  women,  but  of 
a  woman,  dark,  stately,  with  beautiful  eyes  and  a  sad 
expression,  not  a  debutante  but  a  lady  who  had  seen 
the  world  and  grown  disgusted  with  it  and  fixed  her 
mind  upon  lofty  ideals.  He  had  remained  faithful  to 
this  lady  of  his  imagination,  and  preserved  his  purity, 
and  served  his  God,  who  had  implanted  her  image  in 
his  mind  and  had  now  led  her  personally  to  him. 
For  the  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower  was  ordained  by  Provi- 
dence to  be  his  bride !  He  knew,  to  be  sure,  that  it 
[52] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


was  not  the  custom  of  the  daughters  of  English  peers 
to  wed  organists;  but  heaven,  circumstance,  would 
work  in  his  favour  and  help  him  to  remove  the  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  the  union,  and  he  would  be  cir- 
cumspect, patient,  very,  very  patient,  and  never  make 
a  false  step  in  his  approach  to  intimacy.  Madame  de 
Keramur,  to  whom  he  confided  his  secret,  seemed  to 
be  satisfied  with  his  choice.  He  had  no  money,  as 
she  reminded  him,  and  presumably  the  lady  was  rich, 
which  was  as  it  should  be ;  that  she  was  noble  was 
also  as  it  should  be,  for  Madame  de  Keramur  had 
never  for  a  moment  dreamt  that  her  son  would  cast 
his  eye  upon  a  bourgeoise. 

The  apartment  in  which  these  confidences  were 
exchanged  was  called  Madame 's  boudoir ;  it  was  really 
the  only  sitting-room  in  a  small  flat.  The  furniture 
was  of  old  French  marqueterie,  and  upon  the  walls 
and  ledges  were  religious  symbols,  crucifixes,  pictures 
of  the  Madonna,  photographs  of  church  dignitaries 
and  holy  women  with  autograph  signatures,  and  relics, 
some  of  them  in  handsome  reliquaries.  Madame  de 
Keramur  lay  upon  a  sofa,  covered  up  to  her  waist 
with  a  rug,  her  head  propped  up  on  pillows.  She 
had  a  beautiful  sad  face,  a  quantity  of  silver-grey 
hair,  and  hands  plump  and  white  as  those  of  a  young 
girl.  There  was  a  strong  resemblance  between  her 
and  her  son,  both  of  whom  looked  what  they  were, 
aristocrats  to  their  finger-tips,  simple,  narrow-minded, 
full  of  the  pride  of  race. 

On  quitting  his  mother's  room  and  the  house, 
Ernest  made  his  way  to  the  presbytery  of  St.  Peter's. 
[53] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


He  intended  to  inform  Monsignor  Vancelour  that  he 
loved  the  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower,  though  he  expected 
to  be  told  that  she  was  hopelessly  beyond  his  reach. 
But  his  perceptions  were  keen  if  his  knowledge  of 
the  world  was  small,  and  he  believed  that  Monsignor 
would  think  none  the  worse  of  him  for  his  aspiration, 
and  conceivably  might  help  him  to  attain  the  object 
of  his  desire. 

He  was  shown  into  the  priest's  private  room,  and 
found  him  in  consultation  with  his  nephew,  Sir 
Balph. 

"You  know  M.  de  Keramur?"  said  Monsignor, 
upon  which  the  Baronet  nodded,  muttered  "I'm  off!" 
and  rushed  to  the  door. 

"Come  back,  Ealph,"  said  the  priest,  and  then:  "I 
wish  you  to  take  organ  lessons  from  M.  de  Keramur. 
You  have  too  much  time  on  your  hands.  M.  de  Ker- 
amur's  terms  are  fifteen  guineas  for  twelve  lessons — 
payable  in  advance." 

Sir  Ealph's  countenance  fell.  "There's  a  piano  in 
my  place.  You  might  come  there,"  said  he  ungra- 
ciously to  the  organist. 

Ernest  flushed  angrily,  but  Monsignor  interposed. 
**  Yes,"  said  he,  "you  might  go  to  my  nephew's  rooms 
and  teach  him  the  piano.  The  terms  are  the  same  as 
for  organ  lessons,"  he  addressed  the  Baronet,  who 
nodded  his  head  and  withdrew. 

"You  very  nearly  lost  a  valuable  pupil,  Keramur," 
said  the  priest  sharply. 

"Sir  Ralph?  "  began  Ernest. 

"Sir  Ralph  is  a  rich  man, "  interrupted  the  other, 
[54] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"  and  can  afford  to  pay  you  very  high  terms.  It  will 
do  him  no  harm  to  take  music  lessons  and  it  will  help 
to  fill  your  purse.  Now  that  you  are  the  organist 
here  I  shall  be  able  to  get  you  pupils,  and  pupils  who 
will  pay  you  well ;  but  you  must  never  forget  that 
you  are  a  professional  man.  My  musical  friends  tell 
me  that  your  playing  of  the  Mass  on  Sunday  was  very 
brilliant.  Don't  be  too  brilliant,  Keramur.  The 
organ  is  a  very  large  one ;  you  must  be  sparing  with 
the  pedal  reeds." 

They  discussed  the  technicalities  of  the  organ  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  Ernest  said  hesitatingly :  "  You 
know  the  lady  who  was  in  the  church  last  Friday 
evening?" 

Monsignor  meditated.  "Oh,  yes,"  said  he,  "you 
mean  the  lady  who  was  interested  in  the  organ,  Lady 
Eva  Fitzgowerf  I  have  met  her  once — twice  I  think. 
Why!" 

"She  did  not  come  on  Sunday  morning  though  she 
almost  promised  me  that  she  would." 

"  Promised  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  walked  with  her  to  her  home  on  Friday. 
She  was  at  the  church  again  on  Monday — yesterday — 
at  half -past  six,  while  I  was  practising,  and  I  met  her 
afterwards  in  the  porch.  She  was  with  another  lady 
— her  companion,  I  should  think — and  I  told  her 
about  the  Mass  on  Sunday. " 

"But  did  it  interest  her?  " 

"  Not  at  first  perhaps,  but  after  a  time  it  did.  The 
other  lady  kept  calling  her  attention  to  a  victoria  that 
was  waiting  outside  the  church.  I  suppose  she 
[55] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


thought  that  I  had  no  right  to  converse  with  Lady 
Eva,  as  I  had  not  been  formally  introduced  to  her. 
The  bourgeoisie  in  this  country  are  so  pompous  and 
absurd." 

Monsignor's  face  wore  a  sad  smile.  "Sit  down,  my 
son,"  said  he.  "The  companion  was  right,"  he  went 
on.  "  You  should  not  have  addressed  Lady  Eva,  as 
she  had  not  signified  a  wish  that  you  should  do  so. 
I  take  it  that  she  did  nott " 

"No." 

"Well,  after  all,  the  matter  is  of  no  importance." 

"It  is  a  matter  of  importance  to  me,  Father.  I 
love  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower,  and  I  feel  that  God  has 
ordained  that  she  shall  become  my  wife. " 

Monsignor  started  and  looked  at  the  speaker.  It 
was  his  impulse  to  say  "Nonsense!"  but  he  checked 
himself  upon  observing  the  solemn  face  of  the  young 
man.  "You  know  my  regard  for  you,  my  son,"  said 
he  kindly,  "  and  how  anxious  I  am  that  you  should  be 
successful  in  your  career.  But  you  are  speaking  fool- 
ishly. You've  seen  the  lady  only  once — twice.  Tut ! 
tut!  You  have  no  time  to  indulge  in  such  idle 
fancies." 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  the  young  man  with 
hauteur.  "I  said  that  I  loved  this  lady  and  that  God 
has  ordained  that  we  shall  come  together.  It  is  no 
question  of  idle  fancies. " 

"The  lady  is  in  a  different  rank  of  life  from  you," 
said  the  priest.  "She  is  a  member  of  one  of  the  his- 
torical families  of  England  and  the  daughter  of  an 
eminent  statesman.  The  idea  of  such  a  woman  max- 
[66] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


rying  an  organist  is — well,  to  speak  frankly,  my  son, 
is  ridiculous. " 

Ernest  paid  no  heed  to  this;  he  was  gazing  into 
vacancy,  thinking  of  Eva.  "She  is  unhappy,"  he 
began. 

"  How  can  you  know  anything  about  her  ? "  asked 
the  priest. 

"I  feel  that  I  know  a  great  deal  about  her.  I  think 
it  probable  that  I  shall  be  able  to  influence  her " 

Again  the  priest  interrupted  him  with  an  impatient 
gesture.  "Circumstances  have  prevented  you  from 
mixing  much  with  your  fellows,  Keramur,  but  for  a 
man  of  three-and-twenty  you  show  a  strange  igno- 
rance of  the  world.  God  forbid  that  you  should  lose 
your  simplicity  of  character,  but  I  sometimes  think 
that  it  would  do  you  no  harm  to  rub  shoulders  with 

men  of  your  own  age.      However "      Monsignor 

waved  his  hand  and  smiled. 

"I  had  hoped  that  you  would  not  ridicule  me,"  said 
Ernest  solemnly.  "I  have  not  been  brought  up  to 
regard  these  matters  lightly.  There  is  a  tradition  in 
our  family  that  the  heir  is  vouchsafed  a  vision  of  his 
future  bride  and  a  knowledge  of  her  character  before 
he  beholds  her  in  the  flesh.  This  has  been  the  case 
with  me.  The  moment  I  saw  Lady  Eva  I  identified 
her,  and  the  scene  of  our  meeting  was  exactly  as  I  had 
preconceived  it.  In  all  the  circumstances  I  see  the 
hand  of  God.  As  I  told  you,  I  seem  to  know  a  great 
deal  about  this  lady,  and  I  believe  that  I  am  destined 
to  influence  her  career." 

Monsignor  was  silent,  not  knowing  how  to  take  the 
[57] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


young  Breton's  effusion.  "  I  am  anxious  to  save  you 
from  a  not  uncommon  fate,  my  son,  that  is  all, "  said 
he  at  length.  "  Love  for  a  woman  hopelessly  beyond 
his  reach  has  ruined  many  a  man's  career." 

When  Ernest  had  quitted  him  he  paced  the  room, 
shaking  his  head  and  muttering,  "I  had  expected 
something  of  this  kind.  After  all,  the  Keramurs 
are  as  good  a  family  as  the  Fitzgowers.  Now  what 
do  I  remember  about  this  lady  ?  " 

He  had  met  her  at  Tanworth  once,  twice,  thrice, 
and  his  first  impression  of  her  was  that  of  a  spoilt 
child.  He  recalled  a  big-boned  girl  of  thirteen,  who 
was  much  too  old  for  her  years  and  who  spoke  and 
argued  with  her  elders  in  a  fashion  that  displeased 
him.  She  was  fifteen  when  he  next  met  her,  and  a 
remarkably  self-possessed  young  person;  she  helped 
her  father  to  entertain  his  guests,  and  displayed  the 
tact  and  knowledge  of  the  world  of  a  woman  of 
one-and-twenty.  At  eighteen  she  was  the  Queen  of 
Hearts  and  conscious  of  the  fact :  an  exacting,  dicta- 
torial, haughty  woman,  who  showed  a  liking  for  the 
society  of  distinguished  elderly  and  middle-aged  men, 
no  doubt  because  they  knew  how  to  flatter  her  judi- 
ciously. To  younger  men  she  was  proud  and  indiffer- 
ent, and  Monsignor  recalled  an  incident  in  which  she 
had  played  a  very  unamiable  part.  Her  aunt,  Lady 
Caterham,  was  anxious  to  bring  about  a  match  be- 
tween her  and  a  wealthy  young  nobleman  who  was  in 
the  habit  of  boasting  of  his  horsemanship.  His  atten- 
tions were  unwelcome  to  the  girl,  but  he  pressed  them 
upon  her,  and  in  revenge,  it  was  to  be  supposed,  she 
[58] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


defied  him  to  ride  with  her  over  a  certain  dangerous 
piece  of  ground.  He  could  not  but  take  up  the  chal- 
lenge, and  the  result  proved  that  he  was,  as  she  had 
no  doubt  suspected,  a  braggart,  for  the  difficulties 
she  surmounted  easily  overcame  him,  and  he  was 
thrown  and  brought  home  upon  his  back.  Now  to 
humiliate  an  obnoxious  suitor  in  such  a  way  as  that 
was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  unkind.  Then  again  Mon- 
signor  thought  it  unfeminine  for  ladies  to  shoot,  and 
Lady  Eva  was  in  the  habit  of  going  out  with  the  guns 
when  he  was  last  a  guest  at  Tanworth.  On  the  whole, 
therefore,  his  recollections  of  her  were  unfavourable, 
though  her  subsequent  history  awoke  his  compassion 
on  her  behalf.  But  the  idea  that  she  was  destined  to 
become  the  wife  of  Ernest  de  Keramur  was  of  course 
absurd,  and  he  dismissed  it. 

A  little  later  Father  Macdonald  entered  his  room 
and  said :  "  I  have  heard  from  Lady  Newark  and  have 
arranged  to  see  her  here  on  Thursday." 

"  On  Thursday  ?    At  what  hour  ? " 

"At  seven." 

This,  it  may  be  remembered,  was  the  hour  chosen 
for  Eva's  interview  with  Monsignor,  but  the  latter 
did  not  remark  upon  the  fact. 

"It  was  as  I  told  you,"  said  Macdonald;  "Sir 
Kalph  has  impressed  her  with  the  truth." 

"Sir  Ealph  impressed  her!"  cried  Monsignor. 
"My  dear  Macdonald,  it  must  be  a  joke." 

The  Scotchman  looked  grave.     "With  due  defer- 
ence, Father,   you    underrate  your  nephew  and  he 
knows  it,  and  it  causes  him  much  unhappiness." 
[69] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"Dear  me,  I'm  very  sorry,  but  rouse  him,  Mac- 
donald,  make  a  man  of  him!  By-the-by,  have  you 
ever  met  this  Lady  Newark  ?  No  ?  Nor  have  I ;  uor, 
I  believe,  has  anybody  else.  What  does  Ralph  say 
about  her?" 

'*  Very  little,  except  that  she  is  persecuted  by  her 
sister-in  law." 

"Ah,  by  Lady  Eva.     I  had  suspected  that.     Lady 
'  Eva  herself  has  leanings " 

"  Oh,  no ! "  interrupted  the  other,  "  quite  the  reverse. 
She  is  hostile  to  us." 

Monsignor  shook  his  head.  "From  what  I  hear  I 
rather  fancy  that  we  shall  have  trouble  with  these 
ladies,"  said  he.  "I  had  better  tell  you  that  I  re- 
ceived two  members  of  the  Fitzgower  family  into  the 
church  last  week.  The  Bishop  of  Winton's  wife  and 
son  have  joined  us,  but  you  must  keep  the  matter 
secret  for  the  present.  There  have  been  scenes,  pain- 
ful scenes,  between  the  husband  and  wife,  and  they 
have  agreed  to  live  apart  for  a  time.  The  Bishop  is 
still,  I  think,  ignorant  of  his  son's  conversion.  Dear, 
dear  me,  how  sad  it  aU  is! " 


[60] 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Sisters-in-Law 

Apparently  Lady  Newark's  revolt  had  been 
nipped  in  the  bud,  Eva  had  told  her  that  she  must 
not  "unsettle  her  mind"  by  dwelling  upon  religious 
problems,  and  that  a  woman  in  her  position  was  not 
at  liberty  to  change  her  creed ;  the  widow  had  bowed 
her  head  in  submission  and  resumed  her  wonted  man- 
ner, kissing  and  fondling  her  sister-in-law  as  of  old ; 
nothing  more  had  been  said  upon  the  subject  of  the 
Church  of  Eome ;  and  Eva  regarded  the  incident  as 
closed.  For  all  that,  the  Marchioness  intended  to 
keep  her  appointment  with  Father  Macdonald;  but 
she  had  fallen  back  into  a  hopeless  mood,  and  life  at 
Newark  House  ran  on  in  its  accustomed  groove. 

The  description  of  Eva's  regime  which  Lady  New- 
ark had  given  to  Mortimer  would  not  have  been  rec- 
ognised by  the  girl  herself.  She  had  no  idea  that  she 
was  regarded  as  a  tyrant ;  she  thought  that  her  dear 
"little  sister"  was  grateful  to  her  for  having  under- 
taken the  management  of  her  affairs.  The  Marchioness 
was  always  thanking  her,  telling  her  that  she  loved 
her,  exclaiming  at  her  goodness  and  kindness,  and  it 
had  never  occurred  to  Eva  to  question  the  sincerity  of 
these  outpourings.  Had  anyone  told  her  that  the 
widow  trembled  under  her  glance  she  would  not  have 
[61] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


understood  the  statement,  and  yet  it  expressed  the 
truth.  Her  methods  of  controlling  her  sister-in-law 
were  extremely  simple — the  Marchioness  had  de- 
scribed them  truthfully  to  Mortimer — she  let  the  wo- 
man know  how  she  was  expected  to  act,  speak,  and 
think,  and  she  glanced  at  her  with  her  wonderful 
eyes.  It  was  her  endeavour  to  impress  her  with  a 
sense  of  her  exalted  station :  this  was  her  object  in 
surrounding  her  with  luxuries,  in  arranging  that  her 
meals  should  be  served  with  pomp  and  ceremony, 
that  she  should  always  be  finely  attired,  that  she 
should  drive  in  the  handsomest  equipages,  that  the 
chief  apartments  at  Tanworth  and  Cottesley  should  be 
thrown  open  when  she  visited  those  mansions.  But 
Lady  Newark  was  not  the  Queen,  she  was  the  Queen- 
Eegent  of  the  Fitzgower  kingdom,  according  to  her 
sister-in-law,  and  she  must  live  in  retirement,  mourn- 
ing her  spouse  and  looking  forward  to  the  time  when 
her  son  should  grasp  the  sceptre.  So  exalted  a  per- 
son must  be  spared  the  trifling  tasks  that  f  aU  to  the 
lot  of  ordinary  mortals ;  she  must  not  open  a  door  her- 
self— it  must  be  opened  for  her ;  she  must  not  rise  to 
her  feet  to  fetch  an  object  that  she  wanted — it  must 
be  fetched  for  her.  Once  upon  a  time  Eva  had 
caught  her  in  the  act  of  poking  the  fire.  "My  dear 
little  sister!"  she  had  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  such 
tragical  remonstrance  that  the  Marchioness  had 
dropped  the  poker  in  alarm,  and  with  a  sense  that 
she  had  been  guilty  of  a  grave  misdemeanour.  Again, 
Eva  had  a  habit  common  among  imperious  persons 
of  attributing  hypothetical  tastes,  ideas,  fancies, 
[62] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


predilections  to  those  with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 
Thus  the  Marchioness  was  supposed  to  be  interested 
in  the  works  of  Browning,  and  Miss  Norris  was  told 
off  to  read  aloud  his  works  to  her ;  she  was  also  sup- 
posed to  be  interested  in  archaeology  and  in  the  rec- 
ords of  our  landed  nobility,  and  when  Eva  had  a 
spare  moment  she  held  forth  for  her  amusement  upon 
these  subjects ;  she  was  supposed  to  entertain  a  great 
affection  for  Lady  Braintree,  who  accordingly  was 
rarely  allowed  to  quit  her ;  she  was  supposed  to  be 
unwell  when  in  town  (history  does  not  relate  how  this 
fiction  arose),  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  London 
agreed  with  her,  and  she  had  said  so  once,  but  some- 
how the  statement  had  been  misunderstood.  She 
always  had  been  misunderstood  when  she  had  had  the 
courage  to  be  honest,  till  at  length  she  had  abandoned 
honesty  altogether  and  assumed  a  complaisant  de- 
meanour while  nourishing  feelings  of  revenge  and 
spite.  She  declared  to  Mortimer  that  the  terrible  Eva 
had  undermined  her  character,  that  before  her  mar- 
riage the  telling  of  a  lie  would  have  caused  her  more 
compunction  than  an  ungraceful  performance  of  the 
"cart-wheel,"  while  at  present  it  would  cause  her  less 
compunction  than  the  knowledge  that  she  had  pro- 
nounced the  word  "clerk  "  as  it  is  written.  Certainly, 
whatever  she  may  have  been  in  the  past,  she  was  now 
a  bundle  of  falsity,  and  it  shocked  the  honest  Morti- 
mer to  observe  her  fondle  her  sister-in-law  and  cum- 
ber her  with  flattery  when  he  knew  that  she  hated  the 
girl  with  all  her  heart. 

Eva's  lack  of  perception  in  regard  to  the  widow 
[63] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


was  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  Miss  Norris  and  even 
to  Lady  Braintree,  who  was  by  no  means  a  sharp 
woman.  Neither  of  these  ladies  thought  that  the  sit- 
uation would  last,  but  neither  dared  even  to  hint  at 
Lady  Newark's  mental  condition  to  Eva,  for  they  too 
feared  her,  as  also  did  Mortimer  who,  despite  his 
small  stature,  was  a  brave  man.  And  yet  Eva  was 
an  exceptionally  charming  girl — at  times — and  very 
generous  and  kind-hearted.  Her  frankness,  her  nat- 
uralness would  have  shocked  many  a  stock  jobber's 
daughter.  But  she  was  imperious  and  proud,  and 
these  qualities  inspired  fear  in  her  companions  and 
lent  interest  to  the  struggle  upon  which  she  had  em- 
barked with  the  Church  of  Eome,  the  most  imperious 
and  the  proudest  institution  in  the  world. 

It  was  probable  that  the  tension  of  the  situation 
between  the  sisters-in-law  would  have  been  relieved 
apart  from  the  action  of  the  Eoman  priests.  A  cor- 
respondence had  lately  taken  place  between  Eva  and 
her  aunt.  Lady  Caterham,  who  in  the  name  of  the 
family  implored  the  girl  to  allow  them  to  resume 
relations  with  her  and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
"Tanworth's  widow."  The  family  had  hoped  that 
the  girl's  heart  would  soften  towards  them,  but  find- 
ing that  it  had  not  done  so,  they  were  willing  to 
eat  humble-pie,  acknowledge  that  they  were  partly  to 
blame  in  the  dispute,  and,  what  had  most  weight  with 
Eva,  to  disclaim  any  intention  of  interfering  with  the 
arrangements  she  had  made  in  regard  to  the  Mar- 
chioness and  her  son.  Eva  was  very  clear  on  that 
point :  she  would  meet  her  aunt,  her  two  uncles  and 

[64] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her  cousin  upon  this  condition  only,  that  they  made 
no  attempt  to  disturb  her  authority  over  her  sister-in- 
law.  And  at  length  they  had  promised  to  agree  to 
this  condition. 

It  was  on  the  Thursday  morning  and  the  ladies 
were  at  breakfast  when  Eva  alluded  to  this  matter. 
"^It  is  possible,  my  little  sister,  that  Lady  Caterham 
will  call  upon  us  one  day  this  week,"  said  she,  "and 
I  hope  that  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  see  her.  You 
will  forgive  and  forget?  Ah,  you  are  so  so  good! 
She  is  very  quick  and  will  see  at  once  that  we  do  not 
want  to  be  intimate  with  her.  She  is — well,  rather 
an  imperious  person ;  but  we  must  not  allow  her  to 
interfere  with  our  plans. " 

A  feeble  glimmer  came  to  Lady  Newark's  eyes,  but 
soon  disappeared.  Lady  Caterham  was  a  woman  and 
a  Fitzgower,  and  from  such  a  one  no  help  was  to  be 
expected.  However,  she  replied  in  the  formal  man- 
ner she  had  been  taught  to  adopt;  "Of  course  you 
know  what  is  best,  my  dear  sister,  and  I  will  see  her 
as  you  wish  it."  And  then  she  told  the  girl  that  she 
was  "so  so  good  and  so  so  kind!"  (These  phrases 
were  repeated  over  and  over  again  by  the  sisters-in- 
law  when  they  addressed  each  other ;  Eva  indeed  had 
got  into  the  habit  of  employing  them  to  others  as 
well  as  to  the  Marchioness,  and  some  folks  thought 
them  very  gracious,  and  others,  including  Mortimer, 
thought  them  very,  very  tiresome.  According  to  the 
family  records  one  of  the  Fitzgower  ladies  in  the 
time  of  the  Eegency  was  in  the  habit  of  condemning 
the  eyes  of  the  person  she  addressed.  She  meant 
5  [66] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


nothing  by  it,  of  course;  her  "d — n  your  eyes"  was 
a  mere  trick  of  speech,  that  was  all,  and  the  "Thank 
you  so  so  much.  You  are  so  so  good.  You  are  so 
so  kind!"  of  her  successor  may  be  similarly  de- 
scribed. ) 

Miss  Norris  and  Lady  Braintree  pricked  up  their 
ears  at  the  allusion  to  Lady  Caterham.  "Oh,  I  hope 
that  Helen  will  not  disturb  us,"  cried  the  second 
named  lady.  "You  know  that  she  does  disturb 
people,  Eva." 

The  girl  smiled  reassuringly  at  her  old  kinswoman. 

"  But  she  will  be  hurt  with  me,  and  you  know,  Eva, 
that  I  have  often  wanted  to  see  her,  only  you  said 
that  it  was  not  advisable.  And  I  have  often  wanted 
to  see  the  Bishop. "  Lady  Braintree  ran  on  with  some 
grumbling  remarks  under  breath.  She  had  taken 
Eva's  side  in  the  family  feud  and  thereby  incurred 
the  enmity  of  Helen  Lady  Caterham,  who  led  the 
other  side.  Miss  Norris  was  also  concerned  by  the 
news;  with  Lady  Braintree  she  believed  that  Eva's 
tenure  of  power  would  come  to  an  end  the  moment 
that  another  personality  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
Marchioness.  They  felt  that  matters  were  moving 
towards  a  crisis  and  that  their  sinecures  were  in 
peril ;  accordingly  they  listened  with  attention  to  the 
instructions  Eva  gave  to  her  sister-in-law.  Lady 
Newark  was  to  receive  Lady  Caterham  with  the  ut- 
most kindness  when  and  if  she  called,  but  she  was  to 
assume  a  formal  manner  towards  her  and  to  preserve 
her  dignity.  This  was  vague,  but  the  Marchioness 
was  to  take  her  cue  from  Eva,  who  would  be  present 

[66] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


and  who  would  make  plain  to  Lady  Caterbam  the 
terms  of  their  relationship. 

Eva  spent  the  forenoon  in  a  small  chamber  that  ad- 
joined her  boudoir.  She  also  felt  that  a  crisis  was  at 
hand,  but  a  crisis  in  which  the  Marchioness  was  only 
indirectly  concerned.  Her  interview  with  Monsignor 
Vancelour  that  was  to  takie  place  to-day  might  have 
far-reaching  consequences.  The  priest  might,  she 
almost  hoped  that  he  would,  force  down  her  opposi- 
tion to  the  Church  of  Kome,  lead  her  into  the  fold, 
entrap  her,  yes,  entrap  her,  for  once  she  had  entered 
that  fold  she  felt  that  she  would  never  retrace  her 
steps.  And  then  ?  Why  then  the  floodgates  of  her 
nature  would  be  open  and  her  emotions  would  rush 
forth  to  an  object.  She  was  a  woman  of  strong  pas- 
sions, she  must  love  passionately  or  not  at  all ;  be  a 
Catholic  or  a  pagan,  namely,  a  brilliant  woman  of  the 
world.  What  many  of  us  regard  as  fanatical  piety 
was  easier  to  her  than  a  quiet  dutiful  worship.  This 
was  apparent  when  she  took  up  a  crucifix  that  had 
lain  upon  a  table  with  its  face  downwards,  and  gazed 
at  it.  An  ecstatic  love  was  visible  upon  her  counte- 
nance; she  clasped  the  symbol  with  her  two  hands 
and  held  it  in  front  of  her ;  the  tears  welled  up  in  her 
beautiful  eyes,  her  bosom  heaved,  her  whole  frame 
shook  with  emotion.  Her  treatment  of  the  crucifix 
had  not  always  been  so  reverent ;  she  had  hung  it  in- 
verted above  her  bed-head,  hidden  it  away,  and  sev- 
eral times  been  on  the  point  of  destroying  it.  Other 
religious  symbols  had  been  similarly  used,  among 
them  a  picture  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  which  lay  at  pres- 
[67] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


ent  in  a  drawer  with  its  glass  smashed.  The  little 
room  itself,  which  had  been  fitted  up  as  an  oratory, 
had  several  times  been  dismantled.  For  she  was  an 
intensely  proud  woman,  and  she  knew  what  a  sacri- 
fice of  pride  Rome  demands  of  her  children;  she 
craved  for  what  Rome  offers  or  claims  to  offer,  but 
she  was  not  disposed  to  pay  Rome's  price  for  it. 

However,  she  engaged  in  no  struggle  this  forenoon. 
She  recalled  the  tragedy  of  her  life,  the  love  she  had 
poured  out  to  the  Duke  of  Oakham,  the  confidence 
she  had  given  him,  his  speeches,  looks,  caresses,  and 
shuddered.  She  rubbed  her  finger  over  her  lips  and 
then  over  her  cheek,  drew  her  breath  in  jerks,  broke 
down  and  wept  scalding  tears.  She  had  chosen  that 
man  from  a  host,  and  if  he  who  appeared  so  noble  was 
in  truth  so  vile,  what  must  other  men  be  like?  Ah, 
the  world  was  an  iniquitous  place  and  she  would 
retire  from  it,  take  the  veil,  join  the  severest  order  of 
nuns !  Her  spirits  rose.  Eminence  in  the  world  was 
not  worth  having,  eminence  in  the  Church  was,  and 
she  thrilled  at  the  thought  of  that  holy  woman,  that 
spiritual  sister  of  St.  Teresa  and  St.  Clare,  herself  of 
the  future,  the  transfigured  Eva  Fitzgower !  God  was 
calling  her  to  a  great  spiritual  career.  Her  spirits 
again  rose,  and  she  tasted  of  an  exquisite  joy ;  she 
had  not  interpreted  herself  aright.  Proud?  Of 
course  she  had  been  proud  and  rightly  so ;  she  had 
been  and  could  again  be  great,  .if  she  chose,  in  the 
world,  but  she  scorned  greatness  in  such  a  sphere. 
Henceforth  she  would  be  great  in  the  Church ! 

In  the  afternoon  she  ordered  the  landau,  entered  it 
[68] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


with  her  companion,  Miss  Norris,  and  was  driven  in 
the  Park.  It  was  a  balmy  spring  day,  and  the  bright 
sun  veiled  at  intervals  by  light  silvery  clouds,  the 
gentle  breezes,  the  verdure,  the  flowers  in  bloom,  the 
scent-laden  air,  the  singing  of  the  birds  stirred  her 
blood.  The  forthcoming  interview  was  forgotten,  the 
recent  past  blotted  out;  and  when  she  approached 
the  fashionable  quarter  of  the  Park,  the  bounding 
figures  in  the  Eow,  the  ceaseless  flow  of  carriages,  the 
brilliant  toilettes,  the  movement,  colour,  sound,  and 
gaiety  of  the  scene  brought  back  to  her  the  delightful 
feelings  of  her  early  girlhood.  She  beheld  herself  in 
a  tight-fitting  habit,  and  mounted  on  her  chestnut 
barb,  galloping  over  the  red-brown  surface  of  the  Eow. 
How  proud  her  father  had  been  of  her  bold  horse- 
manship !  Memories  of  her  old  triumphs  crowded  in 
upon  her.  She  was  led  away  in  thought  to  Tan- 
worth,  and  a  series  of  brilliant  pictures  arose  and 
passed  before  her  mental  vision.  Grave  statesmen, 
diplomatists,  ecclesiastics,  men  famous  in  the  arts  and 
letters  had  paid  homage  to  her.  She  recalled  the 
scene  of  her  presentation  and  the  giddy  bewildering 
life  of  her  first  season.  Now  she  was  in  London, 
now  at  Tanworth,  now  at  Cottesley,  now  at  other 
country  houses,  now  abroad.  Flattery  and  admira- 
tion were  her  due ;  it  was  in  the  order  of  things  that 
everybody  should  treat  her  with  respect,  and  she  was 
gracious  to  everyone  as  a  matter  of  course. 

She  was  revelling  in  these  memories,  and  experienc- 
ing as  of  old  that  tingling  feeling  in  the  blood,  that 
intoxication  of  the  spirit,  that  delightful  conscious- 
[69] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ness  of  beauty,  power,  and  wealth,  which  the  Church 
designates  as  the  Pride  of  Life,  when  Miss  Norris 
called  her  attention  to  a  strange  figure  in  the  crowd 
below.  He  was  a  long,  lean,  gaunt  man  and  had  a 
visage  something  like  Dante's;  a  habit  of  dwelling 
upon  the  heinousness  of  sin  and  the  punishment  of 
the  wicked  had  stamped  a  grim  look  upon  his  counte- 
nance. He  was  Father  Macdonald,  an  impersonator 
of  Eome's  ascetic  spirit,  a  mouthpiece  of  her  warn- 
ings, threats,  anathemas ;  and  as  Eva  glanced  at  him 
the  radiance  left  her  face,  and  she  realised  with  a 
pang  the  distance  she  had  travelled  since  the  fore- 
noon. She  tried,  but  tried  in  vain,  to  recall  the  mood 
in  which  a  nun's  life  offered  such  attractions  to  her ; 
even  as  she  muttered,  "No,  no! "  to  what  she  thought 
the  tempter's  voice,  she  thrilled ;  scenes  of  brilliant 
colour,  of  strong  but  noble  passion  were  enacted  in 
the  theatre  of  her  imagination. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  again  espied  Father  Mac- 
donald, and  this  time  her  high-stepping  bays  brought 
the  carriage  close  to  the  path  he  was  treading,  so  that 
he  looked  up  suddenly,  glanced  at  her,  and  frowned. 
The  poor  man  was  not  to  blame ;  he  was  saying  his 
office  at  the  time,  and  the  sight  of  a  handsome  woman 
magnificently  dressed  is  apt  to  disturb  a  man  at  his 
devotions ;  but,  as  we  all  know,  irreparable  harm  may 
be  done  by  an  innocent  person,  and  that  frown  of 
Father  Macdonald's  brought  terrible  consequences  to 
the  Church  of  Rome.  The  champion  of  the  Pope, 
the  spiritual  sister  of  St.  Teresa  and  St.  Clare  became 
forthwith  the  bitter  enemy  of  Catholicism;  deliber- 
[70] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ately,  of  set  purpose,  with  malice  and  revenge  in  her 
heart  she  began  her  attack  upon  Eome ;  multitudes 
were  deprived  of  the  benefit  of  the  sacraments,  and 
all  the  joys  and  consolations  and  blessings  of  the 
Church,  because  forsooth  a  woman's  pride  had  been 
wounded  by  a  stupid  priest!  With  a  sad  though 
fascinated  eye  she  contemplated  the  havoc  and 
ruin  she  had  wrought  —  and  then  awoke  to  sense 
and  reality,  consulted  her  watch,  and  found  that  her 
appointment  with  Monsignor  Vancelour  was  due  in 
half  an  hour. 

Oh,  why,  why  had  she  not  remained  in  her  oratory 
and  prepared  herself  for  the  momentous  interview! 
In  her  nervous  excitement  she  thought,  mistakenly, 
that  she  would  have  to  make  her  confession  to  the 
priest  this  afternoon,  and  her  colour  came  and  went 
as  she  dwelt  upon  that  idea.  She  must  make  known 
to  that  dignified  and  courtly  gentleman  all  her  wrong- 
ful deeds,  her  sins  of  commission  and  omission,  the 
evil  tendencies  of  her  nature,  her  weaknesses,  her 
singularities ;  she  must  acquaint  him  with  the  general 
tenor  of  her  ideas,  many  of  her  most  secret  thoughts, 
much  of  her  history ;  she  must  reveal  to  him  the  ani- 
mating and  essential  part  of  her,  her  spiritual,  rational 
and  immortal  being ;  she  must  allow  him  to  discuss 
and  criticise  her ;  she  must  listen  to  his  counsel ;  she 
must  perform  such  penance  as  he  should  enjoin  upon 
her.  No,  no,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  submit  to 
such  an  ordeal ;  she  could  not  do  so.  Nevertheless  she 
ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  Church  Lane  and 
to  stop  on  reaching  it;  the  order  was  obeyed;  she 
[71] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


stepped  from  the  vehicle,  nodded  to  Miss  J^Torris, 
watched  the  carriage  till  it  disappeared  behind  the 
angle  of  a  house,  and  then  turned  and  walked  slowly 
towards  the  presbytery  of  St.  Peter's. 


[72] 


CHAPTEE  VII 
Rejected  ! 

She  was  shown  into  a  small  room  furnished  with  a 
table,  three  chairs,  and  a  priedieu;  a  crucifix  and 
three  engravings  were  upon  the  walls ;  there  was  no 
carpet  and  nothing  upon  the  table  except  a  case  for 
notepaper,  an  ink-pot,  and  a  blotting-pad. 

Upon  consulting  her  watch  she  found  that  she  was 
ten  minutes  before  her  time,  and  this  enabled  her  to 
compose  herself  and  decide  upon  her  course  before 
Monsignor  appeared.  His  greeting  would  be  friend- 
ly, not  formal,  she  anticipated,  for  he  had  been  her 
father's,  it  might  almost  be  said  her  own,  guest.  He 
belonged  to  her  own  class,  and  when  "in  the  world  " 
must  have  met  many  of  the  friends  of  her  youth; 
he  would  therefore  understand  the  special  difficulties 
and  temptations  that  beset  a  woman  in  her  position. 
But  he  would  have  to  understand  a  great  deal  more 
than  that  if  the  interview  were  to  be  successful ;  he 
would  have  to  know  something  of  her  character  before 
she  could  make  intelligible  to  him  her  attitude  towards 
the  Eoman  Church.  (She  had  recovered  from  her 
nervous  excitement  by  this  time,  and  knew  that  she 
would  not  have  to  make  her  confession  this  after- 
noon.) She  therefore  determined  to  give  him  a 
frank  and  naive  account  of  herself,  describing  briefly 
[73] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her  life  in  the  days  of  her  social  triumphs,  and  refer- 
ring to,  though  not  explaining  the  nature  of,  the 
tragedy  that  had  changed  her  outlook  upon  life. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  she  would  endeavour  to 
explain  to  him  her  attitude  towards  Rome ;  but  by 
that  time  he  would  know  much  about  her,  his  interest 
and  sympathy  would  be  aroused,  and  he  would 
regard  her  aa — ^well,  as  an  unusual  person,  say,  a 
proud  person  certainly,  but  as  one  in  whom  some 
pride  was  to  be  expected.  In  short,  though  of  course 
her  ladyship  did  not  put  it  in  this  way  to  herself,  he 
would  be  impressed  by  her  personality  and  hasten  to 
secure  so  valuable  a  prize  for  his  church.  He  would 
be  subtle,  he  would  play  the  Jesuit,  make  matters  easy 
for  her,  compromise  a  bit,  yield  a  little  on  behalf  of 
Rome,  and  ease  his  conscience  with  the  reflection  that 
if  her  disposition  were  less  humble  than  the  Church 
demands  from  those  who  wish  to  join  her,  her  zeal 
and  enthusiasm  when  she  had  entered  the  fold 
would  be  unusually  great,  and  consequently  that  it 
behoved  Rome  to  accept  her  as  she  was  and  as  soon 
as  possible.  Such  was  Eva's  forecast  of  the  inter- 
view, though  she  would  have  viewed  with  indignation 
the  person  who  told  her  so ;  him  she  would  not  have 
thought  "so  so  good  and  so  so  kind!  " 

Punctually  at  the  time  appointed  Monsignor  entered 
the  room,  wearing  a  cassock,  and  holding  his  berretta 
in  his  hand.  In  appearance  he  realised  the  ideal  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  priest ;  dignity,  the  air  of  author- 
ity, the  paternal  air,  and  that  air  of  mystery  that 
should  appertain  to  the  sacerdotalist  were  his,  and 

[74] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Eva  felt  them  before  he  opened  his  mouth.  She  was 
pleased ;  it  was  well  that  she  should  deal  with  Eome 
through  such  a  stately  representative,  and  she  smiled 
and  made  him  a  graceful  and  respectiul  bow.  He 
bowed  in  return,  motioned  her  to  a  seat,  his  large  blue 
eyes  regarding  her  with  that  mixture  of  amusement 
and  admiration  that  we  bestow  upon  a  beautiful  child, 
and  said :  "  It  was  in  this  month  that  we  first  met  at 
Tanworth.  But  your  memory  does  not  go  back  so 
far  as  that?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  smiling  with  pleasure.  "I 
remember  youi-  first  visit  quite  well.  My  aunt  was 
with  us;  but  you  were — were  not  at  that  time  ..." 

"No,  I  was  not  a  priest  then,"  said  he.  "I  had 
just  returned  from  Vienna  where  I  met  Lord  Newark. 
When  I  last  visited  Tanworth  I  took  with  me  a  parcel 
of  school-boys  who  I  fear  gave  your  servants  some 
little  trouble." 

"Oh,  you  should  have  told  me  that  you  were  going 
there!"  said  she  in  a  pretty  tone  of  reproach.  "I 
am  so  sorry  that  you  should  have  gone  with  the 
crowd.  And  the  little  boys,  I  should  so  much  have 
liked  to  show  them  the  place  myself.  I  think  it  does 
instruct  people — don't  you.  Father? — to  keep  such 
places  open." 

There  was  some  more  conversation  in  this  vein, 
the  priest  speaking  less  and  the  lady  more  as  it  pro- 
ceeded, till  the  former,  who  had  been  nodding  his 
head,  smiled  and  made  a  little  movement  with  his 
hand.  It  was  extremely  well  done ;  it  was  as  though 
he  said:  "This  is  delightful.  I  am  much  interested. 
[76] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


I  should  like  to  go  on  listening  to  you  for  hours.  But 
we  are  here  for  a  purpose,  are  we  not!  I  merely 
suggest  it. " 

Eva  gave  a  little  sigh,  her  face  became  grave,  and 
her  tone  altered.  In  a  very  low  voice  and  without 
looking  at  her  companion  she  said:  "I  want  you  to 
help  me,  Father.  For  some  time  past  I  have  been 
thinking  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It  attracts  me  and 
sometimes  I  wish  to  join  it.  I  don't  think  that  I 
have  any  intellectual  difl&cultias.  I  believe  all  that 
the  Church  teaches — at  times.  At  other  times, "  and 
she  dropped  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  I  do  not  like  the 
Church ;  I  feel  hostile  to  it. " 

"Are  you  a  member  of  the  Establishment? "  asked 
the  priest  in  a  voice  so  diflferent  from  that  he  had 
formerly  employed  that  she  looked  up  at  him  quickly 
and  noticed  that  the  expression  of  his  face  had  also 
changed.     It  was  sympathetic,  but  grave  and  solemn. 

"I  was  brought  up  as  an  Anglican,"  she  replied; 
"but  from  the  time  I  was  presented  till  a  little  more 
than  a  year  ago  I  thought  very  little  about  religion. 
I  had  practically  lost  my  faith.  Then  great  troubles 
fell  upon  me.  My  father  died  suddenly  and — and 
other  terrible  events  occurred,  and  then  I  wanted 
consolation  and  could  find  none." 

This  was  in  the  right  key;  the  priest's  face  ex- 
pressed sympathy  and  interest,  and  he  muttered  a  few 
consolatory  words;  whereupon  all  nervousness  and 
anxiety  quitted  Eva,  for  he  was  treating  her  as  she 
had  anticipated  that  he  would  and  as  she  desired. 

"  But  how  came  you  to  lose  your  faith  1 "  he  asked. 
[76] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


She  meditated  a  while  before  she  answered.  "  I  am 
afraid  that  it  will  shock  you,  Father,  but  till  my 
troubles  fell  upon  me  I  thought  religion  a  matter  of 
very  small  importance.  The  world  was  bright  and  I 
was  happy  and  ..."  She  paused  and  coloured. 
"  It  is  a  little  difficult  to  explain.  I  was,  I  suppose, 
in  a  fortunate  position,  and  people  were  so  so  kind  to 
me,  perhaps  too  kind  ..." 

"Quite  so,  quite  so,"  interrupted  the  priest  in  a 
bland  and  soothing  tone.  "You  were  young  and 
thoughtless. " 

But  Eva  resented  that  description  of  herself. 
Proud  she  may  have  been  in  the  days  of  her  social 
triumphs,  and  she  was  prepared  to  hear  her  former 
ways  denounced ;  but  the  priest's  tone  implied  that 
hers  was  an  ordinary  case,  and  for  that  she  was  not 
prepared. 

"  Worse  than  thoughtless  I  fear, "  said  she.  "  I  am 
afraid  that  I  was  guilty  of  pride,  and  I  often  think  that 
God  sent  me  misfortunes  to  punish  me  for  my  pride. " 

Monsignor  bowed  his  head  two  or  three  times,  but 
said  nothing.  Apparently  he  was  not  much  impressed 
by,  not  much  interested  in,  what  she  told  him ;  it  was 
as  though  he  had  heard  it  all  before  and  attached 
little  importance  to  it.  And  yet  she  was  reveal- 
ing glimpses  of  her  character  to  him,  a  man  who  was 
almost  a  stranger  to  her,  admitting  him  into  her  con- 
fidence, telling  him  the  intimate  secrets  of  her  nature ! 
She  felt  mortified  and  disappointed.  She  tried  to 
suppress  these  feelings,  however,  and  went  on  in  the 
same  strain :  "I  began  to  lose  my  faith  after  a  dispute 
[77] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


I  had  with  the  rector  of  Tanworth.  I  disapproved 
the  drift  of  two  or  three  of  his  sermons  and  his  treat- 
ment of  the  poor  in  the  district,  and  I  spoke  to  him 
— well,  I  am  afraid  rather  arrogantly,  and  he  com- 
plained to  my  father.  My  dear  father  was  a  little 
annoyed  with  me  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  his 
life,  and  that  hurt  me  very  much,  and  made  me  very 
angry  with  the  rector.  Now  Professor  Crewkerne, 
the  great  scientific  man,  was  stopping  with  us  at  the 
time.  He  was  always  very  kind  to  me.  I  wanted  to 
discuss  the  rector's  sermons  with  him,  but  at  first  he 
would  not  say  anything  about  them ;  I  pressed  him, 
however,  and  then — very  reluctantly — he  supplied  me 
with  arguments  that  I  could  use  against  the  rector. 
I  did  use  them,  and  I  think  that  I  got  the  better  of 
my  opponent — at  all  events  my  friends  declared  that 
I  did.  It  so  happened  that  I  never  could  get  on  with 
the  clergymen  who  held  my  father's  livings.  I  was 
always  disputing  with  them ;  they  would  never  carry 
out  my  wishes ;  they  were  so  very  obstinate.  When 
little  more  than  a  child  I  used  .  .  .  But  of  course  I 
was  presumptuous  and — and  .  .  .  Well,  I  got  the 
reputation  of  being  rather  an  intellectual  person,  an 
independent  thinker.  Some  of  the  younger  clergy 
who  used  to  visit  us  at  Tanworth  were,  or  pretended 
that  they  were,  afraid  of  me ;  at  the  same  time  they 
always  listened  to  what  I  said.  And  then  Mr. 
Tufnell,  the  great  essay  writer,  used  to  say  kind 
things  ..." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  that  you  should  recall 
these  details  now, "  interrupted  the  priest. 

[78] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Details!  Poor  Eva!  She  stai-ted  as  though  she 
had  been  struck.  She  had  intended  to  give  him  a 
brief  record  of  some  of  the  earlier  paSvSages  of  her 
career  and  gradually  to  lead  him  up  to  the  present, 
and  she  had  hoped  to  awake  his  interest  and  sympa- 
thy by  her  naive  recital.  Unless  he  knew  something 
of  her  character  and  the  circumstances  in  which  it 
had  been  developed,  how  could  she  make  intelligible 
to  him  her  attitude  towards  the  Church  of  Kome! 
And  was  Monsignor  insensible  to  the  effort  it  cost  her 
to  confess  her  shortcomings  to  him?  Was  not  she 
sacrificing  her  pride  by  admitting  that  she  had  been 
proud? 

Her  ladyship  was  perhaps  unaware  of  the  com- 
placent tone  in  which  she  had  alluded  to  her  short- 
comings, and  of  the  complacent  expression  her  face 
had  assumed.  Then  her  demeanour  was  not  that  of 
a  suppliant,  and  her  posture  was  a  little  irreverent. 
She  had  crossed  her  legs,  and  revealed  a  brightly 
varnished  boot ! 

"It  would  be  better  if  you  described  to  me  your 
present  disposition  towards  the  Church,"  the  priest 
continued.  "  You  say  that  you  believe  all  she  teaches 
sometimes.     That  is  scarcely  faith. " 

"But  if  I  became  a  Catholic  I  should  never  be 
tempted  to  doubt  what  the  Church  teaches.  I  am 
quite  sure  of  that.  I  am  not — well,  I  am  not  much 
interested  in  theology.  It  is  best  that  I  should 
become  a  Catholic  at  once. " 

"  You  will  have  to  devote  some  time  to  preparation 
before  you  can  be  received  into  the  Church ;  you  must 
[79] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


be  instructed.  Certainly  I  will  help  you,  and  God 
grant  that  in  due  course  you  may  become  a  Catholic. 
But  you  must  come  to  the  Church  in  a  spirit  of 
humility,  you  must  come  to  learn ;  you  must  be  con- 
vinced that  she  is  the  divinely  accredited  teacher, 
and  you  must  trust  and  love  her. " 

"I  do  love  her,"  cried  Eva.  "I  have  seen — who 
has  not? — women,  and  men,  too,  weeping  over  their 
beads  and  kissing  the  feet  of  a  statue  of  the  Saviour, 
and  I  have  envied  them  their  living,  burning,  pas- 
sionate faith.  I  believe  that  only  in  the  Church  of 
Eome  is  such  faith  to  be  found.  I  don't  think  you 
understand  my  difficulty,  Father.  I  can  assure  you 
that  I  often  feel  inclined  to  do  all  that  I  can  for  the 
Church,  to  help  her  to  the  utmost  limit  of  my  power." 

"But  you  must  first  submit  to  her;  you  must  hum- 
bly submit  to  God's  holy  Church." 

Well,  this  priest  most  certainly  could  not  be  ac- 
cused of  judiciousness,  thought  Eva  bitterly;  he  at 
all  events  did  not  use  the  weapons  of  a  man  of  the 
world ;  he  assuredly  was  no  Jeouit.  To  employ  that 
word  of  all  others — submit !  a  word  most  repugnant 
to  her !  Surely,  surely  he  might  have  hit  upon  a  less 
oflFensive  word ! 

"If  I  became  a  Catholic  I  should  devote  myself 
entirely  to  the  Church,"  she  cried  vehemently.  "I 
should  make  her  interests  my  own ;  I  should  think  no 
more  of  the  past,  I  should  begin  again,  start  a  new 
chapter  in  my  life.  This  is  what  I  am  so  anxious  to 
make  plain  to  you.  Father. " 

"  Why  do  you  say  if  I  became  a  Catholic  t " 
[80] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"  Because  in  my  case  the  change  would  be  a  mo- 
mentous one,  and  it  is  natural,  therefore,  that  I 
should  hesitate  before  making  it.  You  will  pardon 
me,  Father,  but  I  have  known  two  or  three  women 
who  have  joined  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  they  were 
good  women  before  their  change  of  creed  and  they 
are  good  women  now ;  but  they  have  not  altered  their 
way  of  living.  They  were  and  still  are  very  fashion- 
able women,  they  go  everywhere,  and  one  of  them  is 
about  to  make  a — well,  a  very  brilliant  marriage. 
Now  such  women  as  these  could  change  their  religion 
more  easily  than  one  like  myself,  who  on  changing 
her  creed  would  completely  change  her  ideas  of  life 
and  her  way  of  living.  And  yet  the  women  to  whom 
I  refer  experienced  no  difficulty  in  being  received  into 
the  Church, "  she  added  bitterly. 

"I  fully  believe  that  there  are  possibilities  of 
greater  zeal  and  religious  feeling  in  you  than  in  the 
ladies  you  describe,"  remarked  the  priest.  "But  I 
am  bound  to  tell  you  that  at  present  you  are  not  in 
the  right  disposition,  that  you  need  instruction.  You 
do  not  approach  the  Holy  and  True,  the  Oracle  of 
God,  in  the  right  spirit.  It  is  as  though  you  were 
offering  her  an  alliance,  which  is  absurd,  and  your 
talk  of  helping  her  is  at  the  present  juncture  pre- 
sumptuous. You  must  come  to  the  Church  to  learn, 
you  must  be  convinced  that  she  is  God's  appointed 
teacher,  you  must  not  anticipate  a  time  when  you  will 
disbelieve  in  her ;  you  must  approach  her  as  a  child 
approaches  its  mother.  You  do  love  her,  you  say; 
then  why  are  you  at  times  hostile  to  her?  By-the-by 
6  [81] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


at  such  times  does  any  other  er — er — Church  appeal 
to  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  bigoted  Protestantism." 

"Because  of  its  antagonism  to  Rome?  " 

"Yes." 

"Your  hostility  to  Rome  may  be  described  as  a 
determined  resistance  to  the  influence  it  exerts  over 
your  mind  f  " 

"Yes." 

"But  from  this  time  forth  you  will  of  course  never 
resist  the  influence  f  " 

"That  depends  upon  whether  I  join  the  Church." 

Then  after  a  pause  she  cried  more  vehemently  than 
before :  "  But  what  I  am  so  anxious  to  impress  upon 
you  is  that  if  I  joined  the  Church  I  should  never  dis- 
believe in  her,  that,  on  the  contrary,  I  should  believe 
and  trust  and  love  her  with  all  my  heart  and  soul, 
that  I  should  hate  her  enemies  and  devote  my  whole 
life  to  serving  her!  Surely,  surely,  Father,  other 
converts  are  not  so  zealous  and  enthusiastic!  " 

"  No ;  they  are  not. " 

"  And  yet  you  say  I  am  not  in  the  right  disposi- 
tion." 

"  But  of  course  you  very  soon  will  be. " 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Eva,  losing  her 
temper.     "I  am  what  I  am ;  I  cannot  alter  myself." 

"  You  can  pray  for  humility, "  said  the  priest  rather 
sternly. 

At  that  Eva  coloured  and  inflated  her  nostrils, 

"But  of  course  you  will  obey  God's  call,"  said 
Monsignor  in  his  wonted  manner,  "  and  submit  your- 
[82] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


self  hnmbly  to  His  guidance.  And  you  will  devote 
some  time  to  prayer  and  preparation  and  allow  your- 
self to  be  instructed  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  ? " 

But  Eva  did  not  intend  to  commit  herself  to  that 
course.  She  was  piqued  and  mortified.  He  refused 
to  admit  her  into  the  Roman  Church  until  she 
changed  her  character,  which  was  an  impossibility ; 
he  rejected  her  on  behalf  of  Eome.  Her  love  for 
that  Church  and  all  her  enthusiasm  and  zeal  and 
promise  of  lifelong  service  were  haughtily  declined. 
She  must  be  prepared,  instructed.  Yes,  and  reduced 
to  the  position  of  a  slave.  For  it  was  slavery  that 
the  arrogant  Church  demanded  of  her  children !  Her 
auger  rose  against  the  man,  who  had  wounded  her 
pride  by  showing  so  little  interest  in  her  confidences 
and  asserting  that  she  was  not  worthy  of  admittance 
into  his  Church.  Still  she  had  to  answer  his  last 
question  and  to  observe  the  rules  of  politeness. 

"  I  will  think  about  it, "  said  she.  And  then  she 
rose  to  her  feet,  braced  her  figure,  and  glanced  at  her 
companion  with  a  haughty  smile.  It  was  as  though 
she  were  bidding  him  observe  her  whom  he  had 
rejected.  Her  superb  eyes  expressed  her  pride,  her 
consciousness  of  power,  and  they  challenged  his  to 
meet  them.  For  a  moment — but  only  for  a  moment 
— she  surrendered  to  the  unworthy  idea  of  appealing 
to  the  man  in  him  and  of  compelling  his  admiration 
— he  had  wounded  her  and  she  would  be  revenged 
upon  him !  But  the  next  moment  she  was  heartily 
ashamed  of  herself.  His  eyes  did  not  meet  hers; 
he  dropped  them,  not  gradually  as  though  he  were 

[83] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


dazzled  or  self-conscious,  but  instantly  as  though  he 
divined  her  thoughts.  And  then  when  shame  at  her 
unworthy  conduct  had  brought  the  colour  to  her 
cheeks  and  relaxed  the  muscles  of  her  frame,  he 
looked  up.  But  his  kindly  blue  eyes  expressed  no 
surprise,  no  reproof;  they  were  as  benevolent  as 
usual.  Poor  Eva!  She  had  au  impulse  to  throw 
herself  at  his  feet  and  beg  his  pardon,  but  of  course 
she  checked  it.  Her  splendid  frame,  her  glowing 
beauty,  her  magnificent  apparel,  with  which  she  had 
wished  to  force  from  him  a  manly  tribute  to  her 
womanly  charms,  were  now  hateful  to  her;  self- 
consciousness  almost  deprived  her  of  the  power  of 
motion ;  she  walked  haltingly  along  the  dim  passage, 
with  bent  head  and  rounded  shoulders,  like  a  criminal 
before  an  upright  judge ;  and  when  she  had  reached 
the  door  of  the  presbytery  she  turned  and  in  a  broken 
voice  said,  "You  will  pray  for  me,  Father!  " 

"Certainly,"  said  he,  and  he  took  her  hand  in  his 
and  pressed  it  slightly. 

But  her  mood  soon  changed.  No  sooner  was  she 
out  of  doors  than  her  spirit  rose  in  revolt  against  the 
influence  that  Rome  exerted  over  her  mind.  Twice 
it  had  drawn  her  into  the  presence  of  the  priest,  and 
on  both  occasions  she  had  quitted  him  with  feelings 
of  humiliation.  She  would  escape  from  the  tyran- 
nical idea,  the  obsession.  She  had  led  too  secluded 
a  life,  dwelt  too  much  upon  her  sorrows,  become 
disgusted  with  the  world,  morbid,  and  thus  weakened 
her  mind  and  rendered  it  liable  to  be  possessed  by  a 
fascinating  idea.  She  would  return  to  the  world,  to 
[84] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her  place  in  society,  and  enjoy  herself  as  she  had 
done  before  her  troubles  fell  upon  her.  The  thought 
braced  her,  and  she  threw  her  head  back  and  pro- 
ceeded on  her  way  with  a  proud  step.  But  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  humiliating  interview  returned  again 
and  again  to  her  mind,  especially  the  lamentable 
scene  that  had  preceded  her  leave-taking  with  the 
priest.  Ah,  that  odious  exhibition  of  feminine 
perversity!  "No,  no,  no!"  she  muttered.  How 
could  she  have  been  guilty  of  such  conduct?  Instead 
of  trying  to  rebuild  her  pride,  should  she  not  return 
to  Monsignor  and  crave  admittance  into  the  Church 
by  placing  herself  upon  the  level  of  the  humblest 
apple  woman?  But  no;  her  limbs  failed  her,  she 
could  not  retrace  her  steps,  and  thereupon  she  made 
a  vow  never  again  to  enter  a  Eoman  church  nor  to 
seek  an  interview  with  a  priest. 

On  reaching  home  she  found  a  letter  from  her 
aunt,  Lady  Caterham,  awaiting  her.  It  was  a  nice 
and  kind,  indeed  a  humble  and  in  parts  a  pathetic, 
missive.  The  writer  wished,  if  it  were  convenient  to 
her  niece  and  Lady  Newark,  to  call  upon  them  that 
evening  after  dinner ;  she  was  sorry  to  give  them  so 
short  a  notice,  but  a  feeling  of  melancholy  had 
"quite  overcome  her"  that  afternoon,  and  she  longed 
to  see  her  dear  Eva  and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
"Tanworth's  widow."  She  told  Eva  that  she  was  in 
ailing  health,  and  that  of  late  she  had  suffered  great 
pecuniary  losses;  alluded  to  the  "terrible  misfor- 
tunes "  that  had  occurred  to  her  brother,  the  Bishop, 
and  spoke  of  the  "  sad  folly  "  of  her  younger  brother, 
[85] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Colonel  Fitzgower.  Surely,  surely  Eva  was  as  anx- 
ious as  herself  to  bring  the  family  dispute  to  an  end ! 

Fresh  from  her  encounter  with  Monsignor  Vance- 
lour  Eva  was  in  the  mood  to  appreciate  the  kindness 
and  humility  of  her  aunt,  and  she  sent  her  a  note  by 
hand,  bidding  her  welcome  to  l^ewark  House.  Her 
thoughts  then  went  back  to  the  scene  and  subsequent 
correspondence  that  had  led  to  the  breach  between 
her  and  her  kinsfolk.  She  had  acted  on  the  behalf 
and,  as  she  believed,  in  the  interests  of  the  Marchion- 
ess, but  her  action  must  have  seemed  high-handed 
and  unkind  to  her  aunt  and  uncles.  They  had  had 
no  proof  that  Tanworth  had  married  the  woman  he 
had  been  living  with,  nor  that  he  had  been  sane  when 
making  his  will,  and  why  should  they  have  taken 
for  granted  matters  of  such  vast  importance  to  the 
family?  To  be  sure,  Eva  had  volunteered  to  bring 
them  conclusive  evidence  on  those  points,  but  it  was 
natural  that  they  should  wish  to  investigate  them  on 
their  own  account.  The  cohabitation  of  a  man  of 
notoriously  loose  character  with  a  woman  of  low 
origin  was  scarcely  a  subject  for  discussion  with  a 
young  unmarried  girl.  And  though  they  had  used 
unnecessarily  harsh  words  to  her,  and  in  the  subse- 
quent correspondence  attributed  unworthy  motives  to 
her,  they  were  angry,  and  angry  people  were  apt  to 
he  unjust.  Well,  she  would  welcome  them  to  New- 
ark House,  and  allow  them  to  meet  her  little  sister, 
so  long  as  they  made  no  attempt  to  interfere  with 
"her  plans." 

Her  dream  of  a  religious  career  was  over.  The 
[86] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Church  door  had  been  slammed  in  her  face ;  hence- 
forth she  would  be  frankly  of  the  world.  After  all 
Rome's  view  of  the  world  was  not  the  only  view; 
it  was  indeed  a  ^dew  that  very  few  people  really 
shared ;  it  was  quite  possible  to  live  a  dignified  life 
and  yet  be  frankly  worldly.  She  and  her  dear  little 
sister  would  emerge  from  their  retirement  and  sur- 
round themselves  with  distinguished  men  and  well- 
bred  women;  her  kinsfolk  should  join  their  circle; 
a  new  chapter  in  her  life  should  be  opened  on  the 
morrow. 


[87] 


CHAPTEE  Vm 
Lady  Newaek  and  Father  Macdonald 

Lady  Newark's  interview  with  Father  Macdonald 
almost  synchronised  with  Eva's  interview  with  Mon- 
signor  Vancelour,  though  neither  lady  was  aware  of 
the  fact.  Neither  indeed  had  an  idea  that  the  other 
had  arranged  an  appointment  with  a  priest.  Eva 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  discussing  herself  with  her 
sister-in-law,  but  she  had  told  her  that  she  was  inter- 
ested in  the  Church  of  Eome  and  possibly  might  join 
it;  she  had  explained  to  the  Marchioness  that  she 
herself  was  a  free  agent  and  at  liberty  to  change  her 
creed,  whereas  such  an  idea  on  the  part  of  her  "dear 
little  sister"  must  be  repressed  in  deference  to  the 
memory  of  her  husband  and  in  view  of  her  son's 
future.  To  be  sure  the  infant  Marquis  would  in  any 
case  be  brought  up  in  the  religion  of  his  father,  but 
if  his  mother  joined  the  Church  of  Eome  she  could 
not  but  influence  his  mind  in  the  direction  of  Catholi- 
cism. Had  anyone  protested  on  Lady  Newark's 
behalf  that  every  woman  has  the  right  to  join  the 
church  she  believes  in,  Eva  would  have  rejoined  that 
her  sister-in-law  was  a  weak-minded  person,  had  no 
religious  convictions,  was  merely  following  a  whim, 
or  had  yielded  temporarily  to  the  influence  of  an 
impertinent  stranger,  Sir  Ralph  Vancelour. 

[88] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Lady  Newark's  idea  of  joining  the  Eoman  Church 
in  the  hope  either  that  the  news  of  her  change  of 
creed  would  reach  the  other  members  of  the  Fitz- 
gower  clan  and  induce  them  to  hurry  to  her  rescue 
and  free  her  from  Eva's  yoke,  or  that,  in  the  event  of 
the  news  falling  flat,  she  might  have  a  pliable  Father 
confessor  to  back  her  up  when  she  wished  to  run 
counter  to  Eva's  wishes,  testified  to  the  mental  con- 
dition the  weak  and  cowardly  woman  had  reached 
under  her  sister-in-law's  regime.  But  could  she 
carry  the  idea  into  effect?  Alas!  she  feared  she 
could  not ;  she  would  lack  the  courage  when  it  came 
to  the  point.  Nevertheless  she  would  keep  her 
appointment  with  Father  Macdonald  because  that 
seemed  an  easier  course  than  to  write  to  him  and  to 
Sir  Ealph  to  say  that  her  disposition  towards  the 
Eoman  Church  had  changed.  And  after  all  "some- 
thing might  come  of  the  interview ! "  Eomish  priests 
were  reputed  to  be  clever  fellows ;  in  any  case  they 
were  men,  and  no  man  in  all  the  world  could  be  so 
cruel,  unjust,  and  tyrannical  as  her  "dear  sister," 
her  "noble-minded  Eva,"  who  was  always  "so  so 
good  and  so  so  kind ! " 

It  was  not  until  she  was  shown  into  Father  Mac- 
donald's  parlour  and  there  left  to  herself  that  she 
realised  the  difiiculties  of  her  position.  How  was  she 
to  explain  herself  to  the  priest?  What  was  she  to 
say  to  him?  She  had  never  seen  him,  she  knew 
nothing  about  him,  she  fervently  hoped  that  he  was 
a  weak,  kind  man.  But  presently  her  eyes  were 
attracted  by  two  engravings  upon  the  walls,  which 
[89] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


were  not  of  a  nature  to  allay  her  fears.  They  were 
representations  of  works  by  Orcagna  and  Luca  Sig- 
norelli,  and  they  depicted  with  startling  effect  the 
torments  of  the  damned.  Poor  Lady  Newark !  They 
seemed  to  warn  her  that  she  had  entered  the  sanctum 
of  a  severe  and  terrible  man;  and  when  the  door 
opened  and  the  tall,  grim -looking  priest  appeared, 
all  her  powers  deserted  her.  Her  eyes  rose  from  his 
breast  to  his  face  and  remained  fixed  upon  it  in  a 
blank,  stupid  stare;  she  experienced  a  feeling  of 
weakness  in  her  knees,  and  had  an  impulse  to  sink 
gradually  to  the  ground,  gazing  up  at  him  the  while. 

"Lady  Newark! "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  she  feebly,  doubtfully,  whereupon  he 
glanced  suspiciously  at  her  from  under  his  heavy 
brows,  for  her  tone  suggested  that  she  was  claiming 
a  name  that  was  not  her  own. 

She  was  aware  that  he  motioned  her  to  a  chair, 
and,  when  she  had  taken  it,  that  he  seated  himself; 
then  the  deep  voice  said,  "  You  wish  to  consult  with 
me!" 

As  a  matter  of  fact  she  wished  to  run  away  from 
him,  but  she  nodded  her  head  without  looking  up. 

Her  manner  was  very  strange,  but  he  had  an  hy- 
pothesis to  account  for  it.  "You  are  in  distress"?" 
said  he.  "You  have  come  to  God's  holy  Church  for 
consolation !  Sorrows,  misfortunes  have  fallen  upon 
you!" 

"No,    no,"  she  muttered,  shaking  her  head.      "I 

have  come "     But  how  could  she  tell  him  why 

she  had  come  to  him!     Her  distress,  however,  was 

[90] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


obvious,  and  as  she  said  it  was  not  caused  by  sorrow 
or  misfortune,  Father  Macdonald  naturally  concluded 
that  it  resulted  from  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  con- 
science. He  accordingly  uttered  some  remarks  upon 
the  mercy  of  God  and  spoke  of  the  sacrament  of 
penance.  "Your  distress  will  vanish  when  you  have 
entered  the  Church  and  confessed  your  sins  to  your 
Maker,"  said  he.  "Do  not  despair.  However  great 
your  sin " 

But  again  she  interrupted  him,  muttering  as  before, 
"No,  no,"  and  shaking  her  head.  She  perceived  that 
he  was  under  a  false  impression  regarding  her,  and 
to  assume  the  character  of  a  penitent  might  land  her 
into  further  difficulties.  But  she  did  not  go  on  to 
say  what  was  the  matter  with  her,  nor  what  she 
wanted  of  him ;  she  sat  with  her  elbow  upon  the  table 
supporting  her  downcast  head  with  her  hand,  the 
picture  of  distress. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  tell  me  what 
has  made  you  so  unhappy,"  said  he.  "You  need  tell 
me  very  little  about  yourself.  You  are  obeying  the 
call  of  God;  you  wish  to  be  received  into  His  holy 
Church " 

But  yet  again  she  interrupted  him,  muttering, 
"No,  no,"  and  shaking  her  head. 

"Then  why  on  earth  are  you  here  and  what  in 
heaven's  name  do  you  want?"  a  man  of  the  world 
might  have  been  tempted  to  demand;  but  Father 
Macdonald  had  another  hypothesis  to  explain  her 
conduct.  The  woman  was  labouring  under  the 
burden  of  sin  and  had  come  to  him  to  be  received 
[91] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


into  the  Church  and  eased  of  her  load  of  guilt ;  but, 
as  often  happened,  the  enemy  was  tempting  her  while 
she  was  in  the  very  act  of  carrying  out  her  good 
resolution.  And  she  was  wavering;  the  evil  spirit 
was  holding  her  back ;  'twas  a  critical  moment ;  no 
time  was  to  be  lost ;  if  she  quitted  him  in  her  present 
state  she  might  never  return  again,  she  might  be  lost ! 
Accordingly  he  braced  himself ;  his  thin  ascetic  face 
assumed  its  grimmest  aspect ;  he  drew  her  attention 
to  himself  by  putting  forth  his  arm  and  raising  his 
forefinger ;  and  in  a  low  and  solemn  tone  he  warned 
her  of  the  punishment  due  to  sin.  He  startled  her ; 
she  forgot  all  about  her  troubles,  anxieties,  falsities ; 
her  eyes  remained  fixed  upon  him  while  he  held  forth 
upon  the  wrath  of  God  and  the  terrors  of  the  world 
to  come.  His  manner  was  not  calculated  to  give 
offence;  he  seemed  to  be  addressing  and  warning 
himself  and  others  as  well  as  her,  recalling  a  vision, 
describing  an  awful  scene  he  had  witnessed.  He 
spoke  of  the  vain  regrets,  the  fearful  misery,  the 
despair,  the  utter  desolation  of  the  lost,  and  his  deep 
voice,  grim  physiognomy,  and  attenuated  frame  lent 
aid  to  his  words  and  helped  him  to  make  a  profound 
impression. 

Fear  was  the  strongest  emotion  in  Lady  N^ewark's 
nature.  In  the  old  days  when  she  had  earned  her 
livelihood  as  a  ballet  dancer  she  had  been  haunted  by 
the  idea  that  she  was  a  wicked  woman  for  following 
such  a  career,  and  had  cast  wistful  glances  at  the 
Baptist  chapel  and  looked  enviously  at  the  Hallelujah 
lasses.     She  had  had  no  inclination  towards  a  life  of 

[92] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


vice,  but  had  lived  in  constant  dread  that  circum- 
stances would  prove  too  strong  for  her,  that  she  would 
be  led  astray,  and,  as  she  would  have  frankly  said, 
ruined.  The  curious  thing  was  that  no  one  had  made 
it  Ms  or  her  business  to  "convert "  her,  for  the  proc- 
ess might  have  been  effected  with  ease;  half  an 
hour's  "  straight  talk  "  would  have  brought  her  to  the 
"  penitent  form  " ;  but  as  it  happened  she  had  never 
met  a  strong  representative  of  any  creed.  The  brief 
period  of  her  married  life  had  passed  like  a  dream, 
an  unpleasant  dream,  the  latter  part  of  it  a  night- 
mare, from  which  she  had  awakened  to  find  herself 
in  the  hands  of  Eva,  under  whose  influence  her  fears 
had  taken  another  direction.  Formerly  she  had  been 
afraid  of  "going  wrong"  and  thus  incurring  future 
punishment;  more  recently  she  had  been  afraid  of 
being  guilty  of  conduct  unbecoming  in  a  Marchioness 
and  thus  incurring  social  disgrace.  An  "artificial 
conscience, "  so  to  speak,  was  bred  in  her,  and  though 
at  first  she  distinguished  between  its  voice  and  that  of 
her  real  conscience,  as  time  went  on  she  began  to 
confound  them.  She  had  gone  to  Father  Macdonald 
in  fear  of  Eva  and  all  that  Eva  represented,  but  the 
priest's  harangue  had  driven  that  fear  from  her  mind 
and  revived  her  older  fear  of  the  wrath  of  God.  She 
forgot  that  she  was  a  Marchioness,  was  conscious 
only  that  she  was  a  sinful  human  being,  and  there- 
fore in  danger  of  the  punishment  that  the  priest  so 
vividly  described. 

Perceiving  that  he  had  made  the  impression  he 
desired,  Father  Macdonald  hastened  to  reassure  her. 
[93] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"But  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope,"  said  he.  "If 
we  are  wise  we  will  consider  the  punishment  due  to 
sin,  but " 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  tell  you  everything ! "  she  cried,  at 
length  finding  her  voice.  "I  don't  think  I  am  so 
bad  as  you  think.     But — but  I  want  to  know.     I 

want  you  to  tell  me.     I — I "    The  poor  woman 

was  inarticulate. 

"You  are  not  making  your  confession  to  me." 

"  But  I  want  to — do  let  me ! " 

"  It  is  not  advisable  at  this  stage, "  said  he.  "  You 
must  be  prepared  and  received " 

"Oh!" 

"But  you  wish  to  join  the  Church!  "  he  asked. 

"I— I  don't  know." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  in  a  very  dangerous 
state, "  said  he  severely.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  are 
trifling !  " 

"Oh,  no! "  she  cried  with  obvious  sincerity. 

"Then " 

"Do — do  let  me  tell  you  everything — everything 
about  myself ! " 

He  considered  for  a  while.  He  did  not  want  to 
hear  what  vshe  had  done,  though  of  course  if  she  had 
been  a  Catholic  he  would  have  heard  her  confession 
without  a  moment's  hesitation.     "  Well,  if  you  think 

that  I  can  help  you  in  any  way ,"  he  hesitated. 

"Very  well,  then.  Don't  mention  the  name  of  any 
other  person."  Saying  which  he  turned  his  head 
away  from  her  and  with  his  eyes  upon  the  ground 
listened  to  her  tale. 

[94] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


It  was  a  naive  tale,  a  brief  record  of  the  life  of 
a  timid,  small-minded,  feeble-hearted  woman.  She 
made  no  attempt  to  preserve  her  dignity ;  in  refer- 
ring to  her  professional  days  she  admitted  her  lapses 
from  truth,  her  spitefulness,  and  a  host  of  petty 
vices;  on  the  other  hand,  she  laid  stress  upon  the 
fact  that  she  had  preserved  her  purity. 

Father  Macdonald's  face  assumed  a  sympathetic 
expression ;  he  perceived  her  sincerity,  the  admirable 
state  of  mind  that  had  succeeded  to  her  fit  of  dogged 
obstinacy,  and  he  was  prepared  to  be  kind  and  gentle 
with  her  no  matter  how  terrible  was  the  sin  she  was 
about  to  reveal  to  him. 

She  related  how  she  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
her  husband  and  her  disinclination  to  accept  his 
proposal.  With  much  earnestness  she  assured  the 
priest  that  she  had  not  aspired  to  a  great  marriage, 
as  though  such  an  aspiration  were  sinful,  and  then 
she  passed  on  to  the  bitter  days  of  her  widowhood. 
Poor  little  woman !  The  tears  gathered  to  her  eyes. 
She  felt  that  Father  Macdonald  would  not  be  able  to 
understand  the  misery  she  had  endured  under  Eva's 
regime,  more  especially  as  she  tried  her  utmost  to  do 
that  young  woman  justice.  (She  did  not  mention  her 
by  name. )  In  her  anxiety  to  be  honest  she  almost 
exaggerated  her  own  falsities,  deceits,  and  evil  wishes 
against  her  sister-in-law.  But  was  there  no  excuse  for 
her!  she  asked.  Was  it  right  that  she  should  have 
been  made  so  unhappy?  Surely,  surely — and  as  she 
put  this  question  her  voice  shook  and  her  eyes 
pleaded  for  mercy — ^her  salvation  was  not  in  peril! 
[95] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Surely  Father  Macdonald  would  give  her  hope  that 
God  would  pardon  her  her  sins? 

But  the  priest  remained  silent.  And  then,  "  Yes?  " 
said  he.     "Goon." 

But  she  seemed  to  have  nothing  more  to  say,  and 
Father  Macdonald,  after  glancing  at  her  with  aston- 
ishment, cried,  "  Is — is  that  all  ? " 

"Well,  it  was  nearly  all,  and  she  intended  to  teU  him 
what  remained  when  she  had  dried  her  eyes. 

"Why,  my  child,  you  are  attaching  importance  to 
mere  trifles, "  said  he,  and  then  he  who  would  have 
remained  calm  if  she  had  accused  herself  of  bigamy 
or  even  murder  felt  confused  and  at  a  loss  for  words. 
Was  it  possible  that  her  great  distress  and  fear  of  the 
divine  wrath  had  been  occasioned  by  the  peccadillos, 
for  they  hardly  amounted  to  more  than  that,  which 
she  had  confessed?  But  if,  as  seemed  to  be  the  case, 
she  needed  encouragement  and  confidence  in  God's 
mercy,  why  had  she  rejected  his  attempt  to  reassure 
her  on  that  point  ? 

"These  doubts  as  to  your  soul's  welfare,"  he  began, 
when  she  interrupted  him. 

"  They  did  not  occur  to  me  till  you  spoke  of  future 
punishment.  I  mean  I  had  not  dwelt  on  those  doubts 
for  years." 

This  added  to  his  perplexity.  "Still  you  obeyed 
God's  call  when  He  summoned  you  to  His  Church. " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  then  at  length  Father 
Macdonald  lost  his  patience  and  was  about  to  speak 
harshly  when  a  thought  suddenly  struck  him. 
Whatever  may  have  been  her  motive  in  coming  to 

[96] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


him  there  she  was,  and  whatever  had  caused  her 
distress  she  was  distressed ;  her  guilt  was  not  so  great 
as  she  imagined,  but  if  she  had  not  had  an  exagger- 
ated sense  of  it  she  would  probably  not  have  been 
with  him  at  that  moment ;  in  any  case  it  would  be 
manifestly  to  her  advantage  to  become  a  Catholic,  and 
it  was  manifestly  his  duty  to  try  to  make  her  one. 

"It  is  plain  to  me  that  you  have  been  neglecting 
religion,  your  duty  to  God, "  said  he  a  trifle  sternly. 
"  If  you  fixed  your  mind  upon  things  of  real  impor- 
tance you  would  be  able  to  bear  the  small  troubles  of 
life  more  easily.  You  say  that  you  are  unhappy,  but 
how  can  you  expect  to  be  happy  when  you  are  not  at 
peace  with  your  Maker  and  not  at  peace  with  your 
c-onscience?  Your  mind  is  in  a  state  of  confusion.  I 
gather  that  you  have  lost  your  sense  of  responsibility, 
your  power  of  will,  your  self-respect,  that  you  are  at 
the  mercy  of  any  chance  influence  that  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  you.  How  can  you  be  happy  while  you 
remain  in  such  a  state?  You  have  told  me  many 
things  about  yourself,  but  you  have  kept  back,  or 
rather  you  don't  seem  to  realise,  what  is  really  amiss 
with  you.  You  have  neglected  your  soul,  you  have 
neglected  your  soul!  Go  humbly  to  God,  seek 
instruction  from  one  of  the  ministers  of  His  holy 
religion,  and  you  will  soon  gain  strength  and  attain 
to  peace. " 
"  You  mean  that  I  had  better  turn  Romanist  ? " 
"Ah,  that  you  should  ask  the  question!  You 
crave  for  freedom,  for  independence — you  have  said 
so — and  what  prevents  your  having  it?  You  are  a 
1  [97] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


free  agent ;  no  one  is  entitled  to  control  you  or  make 
you  unhappy.  You  dare  not  take  the  means  to  effect 
your  freedom,  and  why?  Because  you  have  no  belief 
in  yourself  and  would  not  know  what  to  do  with  your 
freedom  if  you  had  it.     Am  I  not  right?  " 

"Yes,  yes." 

"And  now  I  come  to  the  point.  You  are  not  iBt 
to  be  free  at  present.  No  one  is  who  has  no  fixed 
principles  and  no  definite  creed  to  fall  back  upon. 
Everybody  is  in  need  of  moral  support,  you  if 
possible  more  than  most  people,  because  circum- 
stances have  placed  you  in  a  position  of  responsibility. 
It  is  to  your  credit  that  you  recognise  this;  much, 
indeed,  that  you  have  told  me  about  yourself 
redounds  to  your  credit.  You  followed  a  career  that 
is  peculiarly  beset  with  temptation  and  you  preserved 
your  purity.  Ah,  my  daughter,  thank  God  for  that ! 
You  said  that  you  felt  the  difficulties  of  your  former 
state  and  that  now  you  feel  the  difficulties  of  your 
present  state " 

"  Ah,  but  they  are  so  different, "  she  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  but  both  arise  from  the  same  cause — distrust 
of  self.  And  of  course  you  are  self -distrustful  when 
you  are  unsupported  by  religion." 

Well,  it  was  true  that  she  wanted  moral  support, 
but  she  also  wanted  personal  support,  so  to  speak ;  in 
other  words,  she  wanted  some  one  to  be  present  to 
back  her  up  when  she  encountered  Eva  and  possibly 
the  other  members  of  the  family.  Again,  she  wanted 
some  one  to  help  her  to  manage  her  affairs.  In 
short,  if  she  were  to  go  over  to  Eome,  as  at  this 

[98] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


momeut  she  wished  to  do,  a  representative  of  that 
Church  must  come  boldly  forward,  face  Eva  and 
possibly  the  other  Fitzgowers,  and  snatch  her  from 
their  grasp.  She  found  it  difficult  to  explain  this  to 
Father  Macdonald,  but  he  was -very  quick  and  gath- 
ered her  meaning  from  her  disjointed  sentences.  He 
advised  her  not  to  be  precipitate,  not  to  be  in  a 
hurry,  not  to  engage  in  any  scenes. 

"But  to-night!"  the  poor  woman  exclaimed.  "I 
couldn't  face  her,  I  couldn't  really!  I  must  behave 
to  her  as  I  have  always  behaved  or — or  round  on 
her!" 

"I  should  say  nothing  about  the  matter  to-night  if 
I  were  you, "  said  he.    "  You  will  be  excited  to-night. " 

"Yes,  but  that's  my  only  chance;  if  I  am  not 
excited  I  shall  never  be  able  to  say  anything  at  all. 
It  must  happen — everything  must  happen  to-night ! " 

"What  a  very  tyrannical  person  that  woman  must 
be,"  thought  Father  Macdonald,  referring  to  Lady 
Newark's  her.  Aloud:  "No,  no,  try  to  avoid 
scenes  and  recriminations,"  said  he.  "You  are  going 
to  take  a  very  important  step,  a  step  that  will  influ- 
ence your  whole  life,  and  what  is  so  much  more 
important,  your  hereafter.  Think  of  that,  ponder 
it " 

"Then  I  shall  never  dare  to  take  the  step,"  she 
interrupted  vehemently.  "I  dare  not  call  my  soul 
my  own.  Couldn't  you  come  to  me  this  evening? 
After  all  it  is  my  own  house.  Everything  must 
happen  this  evening.     Come  to  me — do ! " 

"It  would  be  so  much  better  that  I  didn't,"  said 
[99] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


he,  "so  much  better  that  you  should  devote  some 
time  to  reflection,  to  calm  thought,  to  prayer  before 
bringing  the  matter  before  your  relations.  You 
must  not  let  it  be  thought  that  you  are  following  a 
whim,  that " 

"Then  I  must  go  somewhere  else;  I  dare  not  face 
her  alone.  Ah,  Sir  Ralph!  Perhaps  he  would 
come ! " 

"No  no,"  persisted  the  priest,  and  again  advised 
her  to  dwell  upon  spiritual  matters  for  the  present. 
But  it  was  not  a  bit  of  good ;  the  woman  was  in  a 
state  of  nervous  collapse;  and  at  length  Father 
Macdonald,  with  many  misgivings  and  with  strong 
feelings  against  the  course,  despatched  a  telegram  to 
Sir  Ralph  Vancelour,  bidding  him  come  at  once  to 
the  presbytery. 

Upon  returning  to  the  room  he  found  Lady  New- 
ark somewhat  calmer.  She  brought  before  him  the 
other  matter  that  was  causing  her  anxiety,  namely, 
the  management  of  her  households.  "It  is  as  bad 
as  having  to  rule  a  kingdom, "  she  complained.  "I 
couldn't  possibly  do  the  work  myself.  Would  you, 
the  Church,  be  able  to  help  me — do  the  work  for  me?  " 

Father  Macdonald  told  her  Yes.  More  questions 
followed  from  her,  and  were  answered  in  a  manner 
that  brought  her  relief,  and  then  Father  Macdonald, 
who  was  undoubtedly  a  sincere  man,  did  his  best  to 
make  her  realise  the  importance  of  the  step  she  was 
about  to  take ;  bade  her  drive  all  worldly  thoughts 
from  her  mind,  and  gave  her  a  list  of  books  to  read. 
Another  interview  was  arranged  for  the  morrow;  and 
[  100  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


a  few  minutes  later  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  knocked  at 
the  door  and  was  admitted.  He  undertook  to  call  at 
Newark  House  in  answer  to  the  widow's  request,  and 
then  her  ladyship  quitted  the  room  and  was  escorted 
to  the  street  door  by  Father  Macdonald. 


[101] 


CHAPTEE  IX 
The  Eupture 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
Eva  and  the  Marchioness,  Lady  Braintree  and  Miss 
Nori'is  were  in  the  French  room,  awaiting  the 
announcement  of  dinner.  Lady  Newark's  face  bore 
marks  of  distress  and  she  avoided  the  eyes  of  her 
companions,  but  these  signs,  though  duly  marked 
by  Lady  Braintree  and  Miss  Norris,  escaped  Eva's 
observation.  The  girl  was  still  feeling  that  sense  of 
relief  that  had  come  over  when  she  decided  to  aban- 
don further  thought  of  the  Eoman  Church,  forget  the 
past,  and  emerge  from  her  retirement.  She  enjoyed 
the  consciousness  that  she  and  her  companions  were 
in  such  a  beautiful  room  and  dressed  in  such  hand- 
some toilettes,  that  their  meal  would  be  served  in 
the  great  Georgian  dining-room  with  all  the  pomp 
and  ceremony  of  a  formal  dinner  party;  that  as 
to-day  so  on  other  days,  and  at  Tanworth  and  Cottesley 
as  well  as  in  Newark  House,  they  lived  in  such  stately 
fashion. 

When  dinner  was  announced,  she  bowed  to  her 
sister-in-law,  who  thereupon  stepped  forward,  and 
followed  by  the  girl  passed  out  of  the  room.  Lady 
Braintree  and  Miss  Norris  bringing  up  the  rear. 
They  had  some  distance  to  go  before  reaching  the 
[102] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


dining-room,  to  descend  two  flights  of  stairs  and  cross 
two  landings,  and  theii-  procession  was  slow,  each 
measuring  her  steps. 

"How  pompous  and  absurd  this  is,"  thought  Miss 
Korris.  "  I  wonder  whether  we  are  performing  this 
solemn  march  for  the  last  time " ;  and  bending  for- 
ward to  Lady  Braintree  she  whispered :  "There'll  be  a 
scene  this  evening  unless  I  am  mistaken.  Lady 
Newark  is  bracing  herself  up  for  it. " 

The  gorgeous  Empire  plate  was  displayed  as  usual 
upon  the  dining  table ;  the  menu  was  as  long  as  that 
at  a  city  banquet ;  and  three  men  besides  the  butler 
were  in  attendance.  As  has  been  said,  Eva's  chief 
object  in  conducting  the  household  in  so  luxurious  a 
fashion  was  to  imbue  the  Marchioness  with  a  sense  of 
her  position,  but  she  had  another  object,  and  that 
was  to  gratify  her  own  taste  for  the  magnificent. 
The  vulgar  wish  to  make  an  impression  upon  stran- 
gers or  friends  was,  on  the  other  hand,  quite  foreign 
to  her  nature,  and  Mortimer  declared  that  in  the  old 
days  when  her  father  was  alive  she  used  to  dress 
more  sumptuously  when  she  was  to  be  alone  or  with 
her  relations  than  when  she  was  to  go  into  society. 

She  was  not  above  discussing  the  menu  with  her 
sister-in-law,  and  when  a  particularly  recherche  dish 
was  handed  round  she  pressed  it  upon  her.  "You 
must !  You  must  indeed ! "  said  she.  "  I  ordered  it 
for  you " ;  and  Lady  Newark  yielded,  ate  a  morsel, 
but  did  not  like  it,  for  she  had  not  a  dainty  palate. 
"Ah,  you  see  I  know  your  tastes,"  said  Eva,  and  in 
spite  of  the  little  lady's  protests  she  again  pressed  the 
[103] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


dish  npon  her,  so  that  the  Marchioness  made  the 
chief  part  of  her  meal  off  that  entr^,  which  was 
indeed  the  choicest  thing  in  the  menu,  though  she 
happened  not  to  like  it.  The  other  ladies  were  not 
Marchionesses  and  were  allowed  to  eat  what  they 
liked. 

When  the  servants  had  placed  the  dessert  upon  the 
table  and  retired,  Eva  told  the  other  ladies  that  she 
had  changed  her  plans  and  that  livelier  times  were  in 
store  for  them.  "That  is  if  you  wish  it,  my  little 
sister,"  she  hastened  to  add.  "We  have  been  so  so 
happy,  but  I  do  not  think  it  advisable  that  we  should 
always  live  so  quietly.  Our  time  of  mourning  is 
over  and  we  must  now  have  a  little  gaiety.  We  will 
begin  by  entertaining  my  aunt  and  my  uncles  and 
their  intimate  friends,  who  are  so  anxious  to  resume 
relations  with  me  and  be  presented  to  you.  We  will 
invite  them  here  to  dinner,  and  when  the  season  ia 
over  ask  them  to  Tanworth.  We  will  make  them 
very  comfortable,  I  think;  we  will  show  them  how 
well  women  can  manage  for  themselves.  Then  later 
on  we  will  have  a  large  house-party  at  Tanworth  for 
the  shooting.  My  uncle,  Percy,  and  my  cousin. 
Alec,  are  first-rate  shots  and  will  never  remain  at  a 
place  where  the  shooting  is  not  good,  but  the  coverts 
at  Tanworth  are  plentifully  stocked.  Upon  my  word 
I  think  that  you  and  I  should  be  satisfied  with  our- 
selves, my  little  sister !  I  am  told  that  people  are  so 
curious  about  us,  so  anxious  to  know  you,  so  anxious 
to  welcome  me  back  among  them ! " 

Lady  Braintree  and  Miss  Norris  were  exasperated 
[104] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


with  the  girl  for  her  lack  of  perception.  Lady 
Newark's  face  wore  a  hard-set  look,  she  had  not 
spoken  a  word  during  dinner,  when  addressed  she 
merely  nodded  or  shook  her  head;  it  was  quite 
obvious  that  she  was  bracing  her  nerves  for  a  scene. 
However,  she  obeyed  Eva's  signal  to  her  to  rise,  and 
led  the  way  back  again  to  the  French  room. 

Upon  entering  this  apartment  a  spirit  of  restless- 
ness took  possession  of  Eva,  and  she  walked  about 
the  spacious  room,  filling  it,  so  to  speak,  with  her 
majestic  presence.  Perhaps  she  felt  this,  for  in  her 
recoil  from  her  nunlike  mood  she  was  "letting  herself 
go,"  recalling  the  glories  of  the  past,  anticipating  the 
glories  of  the  future,  vibrating  with  joy  and  pride. 

Lady  Braintree  and  Miss  Norris  had  no  great  affec- 
tion for  her,  though  she  had  been  very  kind  and 
generous  to  them,  but  they  were  anxious  that  so 
superb  a  creature  should  be  saved  from  humiliation. 
They  therefore  made  themselves  plesisant  to  the  Mar- 
chioness, who  had  the  power  and  they  feared  the 
intention  of  striking  the  girl  to  the  dust ;  they  flat- 
tered her  and  did  their  utmost  to  drive  the  hard-set 
look  away  from  her  face.  But  they  were  not  success- 
ful. "No,  no,"  she  muttered  like  a  petulant  child, 
and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  door,  so  that  her 
companions  guessed  that  she  had  invited  some  one  to 
come  to  her  that  evening  to  help  her  in  her  encounter 
with  her  sister-in-law. 

"Sir  Ealph  Vancelour,"  announced  the  servant  in 
a  voice  so  loud  that  Eva  halted  and  directed  an  angry 
glance  at  the  speaker.  Sir  Ralph  Yancelour!  Sir 
[106] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Balph  Vancelour!  Why,  she  had  given  orders  that 
that  impertinent  man  was  not  to  be  admitted  into  the 
house !  Her  attention  was  drawn  the  next  moment  to 
Lady  Newark,  who  rose,  moved  quickly,  almost  ran 
towards  the  Baronet,  shook  his  hand,  looked  up  into 
his  face,  and  thanked  him  warmly,  effusively,  for 
calling.  She  spoke  excitedly,  her  manner  was  almost 
hysterical ;  it  was  as  though  she  were  welcoming  a 
deliverer,  a  man  come  to  extricate  her  from  some 
peril.  And  Sir  Ralph  seemed  prepared  for  this 
reception ;  he  looked  down  upon  her  with  sympathy 
and  pity,  and  then  glancing  at  Eva  he  bowed.  Si- 
multaneously Lady  Newark  turned  and  beheld  her 
sister-in-law,  and  an  exclamation  of  fear  escaped  her. 
For  a  moment  Eva's  aspect  was  a  little  threatening, 
and  the  two  onlookers,  Lady  Braintree  and  Miss 
Norris,  feared  that  in  her  anger  she  would  be  dis- 
courteous to  the  guest.  Their  fears  were  well 
grounded;  after  the  absurd  exhibition  she  had  just 
witnessed  Eva  was  determined  that  the  acquaintance 
between  this  man  and  her  sister-in-law  should  cease. 
She  bade  him  be  seated  and  in  a  gesture  indicated  a 
chair  to  Lady  Newark ;  she  herself  remained  standing 
opposite  to  the  Baronet,  her  expression  demanding 
that  he  should  explain  the  object  of  his  visit.  Now 
this  was  unwarrantable  conduct  on  her  part;  this 
attempt  to  cow  the  visitor,  her  sister-in-law's  guest, 
was  quite  unworthy  of  her.  And  it  failed;  Sir 
Balph  remained  perfectly  cool  and  instantly  spoke 
to  the  point.  "You  are  aware  that  Lady  Newark 
intends  to  join  the  Catholic  Church?  "  said  he. 
[106] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"One  of  the  priests  of  St.  Peter's  Church  has  sent 
you  with  a  message  for  Lady  Newark  ?  "  asked  Eva, 
taking  a  seat  and  obstructing  the  Baronet's  view  of 
the  Marchioness. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "but  I  intend  to  help  Lady 
Newark." 

"To  help  her!"  exclaimed  Eva.  "You  surely 
know  that  it  is  very  unusual  for  a  stranger  to  thrust 
himself  between  a  lady  and  the  members  of  her 
family.  I  thought — I  had  to  think — that  a  priest  had 
sent  you  with  a  message ;  I  could  not  have  imagined 
that  you  would  come  here  upon  your  own  responsi- 
bility to  discuss  with  her  such  a  private  matter  as  her 
religious  convictions.  However,  we  thank  you  for 
your  offer  to  help  us,  though  of  course  we  cannot 
avail  ourselves  of  it."  Saying  which  she  rose  from 
her  seat  with  the  intention  of  ringing  the  bell ;  but 
before  she  reached  it  a  servant  entered  and  an- 
nounced Lady  Caterham. 

Eva  lost  her  presence  of  mind.  She  perceived  the 
figure  of  the  Baronet  bending  over  Lady  Newark, 
and  Lady  Braintree  and  Miss  Norris  standing  rigid, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  nor  where  to  look,  keenly 
alive  to  the  embarrassment  of  the  moment.  Then  the 
scene  swam  before  her  eyes,  and  she  felt  that  the  situa- 
tion had  escaped  from  her  control.  On  catching  sight 
of  the  well -remembered  figure  of  her  aunt,  however, 
she  recovered  herself  and  greeted  the  newcomer  af- 
fectionately though  not  effusively.  Lady  Caterham 
responding  in  the  same  manner,  so  that  no  one  would 
have  Imagined  that  they  had  last  parted  in  anger. 
[107] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Caterham  was  of  the  same  type  as  Eva,  but 
smaller  and  thinner;  she  still  bore  traces  of  great 
beauty,  but  she  looked  a  woman  who  had  been  every- 
where, seen  everything,  and  exhausted  her  capacity 
of  enjoyment.  There  was  a  worn  look  in  her  daik 
eyes,  as  though  they  had  constantly  been  exposed  to 
a  dazzling  light,  and  a  hard  look  about  her  face,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  it  wore  a  smile  as  a  rule — a  set 
smile  in  which  there  was  no  merriment.  She  bore 
herself  with  grace,  however,  and  was  certainly  an 
elegant  woman.  After  turning  from  Eva  she  glanced, 
not  at  the  other  persons  in  the  room,  but  at  the  room 
itself,  which  no  doubt  awoke  memories  in  her.  Then 
"I'm  forgetting,"  said  she.  "My  dear  niece,"  and 
she  gave  Eva  her  hand,  and  the  girl  led  her  forward 
to  the  others.  Her  eyes  glanced  at  Lady  Braintree 
without  interest,  and  she  nodded  a  little  curtly; 
passed  Miss  Norris  quickly,  as  though  she  were  not 
of  much  account ;  remained  a  short  while  on  the 
Baronet,  whose  proximity  to  the  little  lady  who 
remained  seated  seemed  to  surprise  her;  and  then 
fixed  themselves  upon  the  Marchioness  in  an  intent 
and  searching  gaze.  So  that  was  Tan  worth's  widow ! 
But  why  didn't  she  look  up?  Eva  spoke  to  her,  but 
she  made  no  response,  no  movement,  gave  no  sign 
that  she  understood  what  was  happening.  Eva 
repeated,  "My  aunt,  Lady  Caterham.  My  little 
sister.  Lady  Newark  " ;  but  the  latter's  eyes  remained 
fixed  upon  her  lap ;  she  might  have  been  deaf,  dumb, 
and  blind.  "Are  you  ill,  my  little  sister?"  asked 
Eva,  bending  towards  her  and  speaking  gently. 
[108] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"This  is  my  aunt  whom  I  told  you  about.  Do  wel- 
come her,  my  dear !  Do  look  up !  Would  you  sooner 
that  she  came  at  another  time  ?  Do  tell  me !  Do  look 
up!"  The  girl  waited  a  few  seconds,  and  then 
straightened  her  figure,  her  breast  heaving  convul- 
sively, her  face  betraying  her  agony. 

When  she  had  somewhat  recovered  from  her  aston- 
ishment Lady  Caterham  stepped  forward  and  gently 
and  kindly  put  her  hand  upon  the  Marchioness's  arm. 
"Are  you  ill,  my  dear — Mary?  Don't  you  wish  to 
know  me?  I  gathered  from  my  dear  niece  that  you 
wished  to  see  me,  but " 

The  Marchioness  pushed  the  hand  from  off  her  arm 
like  a  vulgar  school-girl,  and  Lady  Caterham  started 
upright  and  looked  at  her  niece.  Eva  emitted  a 
painful  little  cry  and,  drawing  near  to  Lady  Brain- 
tree  and  Miss  Iforris,  said  in  an  agonised  whisper, 
"Go,  go,  please  go!"  They  complied  with  the 
request,  and  in  a  glance  at  Sir  Ealph  Eva  bade  him 
also  go ;  but  he  met  her  eyes  with  an  obstinate  look 
and  stood  his  ground. 

At  length  the  Marchioness  spoke.  "You  should 
have  come  before,  Lady  Caterham, "  said  she,  without 
looking  up.  "It  is  too  late  now.  Eva  and  I  must 
part ;  either  she  or  I  must  go.  I  cannot  go  on  living 
as  I  have  lived  since  Tanworth's  death;  I  would 
sooner  die.  I  dare  not  do  what  I  want  to  do,  nor  say 
what  I  want  to  say,  nor  think  what  I  want  to  think. 
Eva  is  always  watching  me,  and  Lady  Braintree  and 
Miss  Norris  are  spies.  I  am  unhappy,  miserable! 
Eva  means  to  be  kind,  but  she  doesn't  understand  me. 
[109] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


I  can't  do  what  she  wants  me  to  do,  nor  be  what  she 
wants  me  to  be;  I  can't,  really,  really  I  can't!  I 
have  tried,  I  have  really,  but  it's  no  use !  And  she 
isn't  fair  to  me;  really,  really  she  isn't!  She  will  be 
angry  with  me  for  having  gone  to  Father  Macdonald 
to-day ;  she  was  angry  with  me  for  inviting  Sir  Ralph 
here.  She  says  I  haven't  any  religious  convictions, 
but  it  isn't  true.  I  went  to  Father  Macdonald 
because  I  hadn't  anyone  else  to  go  to ;  I  thought  he 
might  help  me  and  he  has  helped  me.  And  I'm  going 
to  him  again  to-morrow  whatever  Eva  may  say,  for 
he's  a  good  man  and  understands  me,  and  he's  ready 
and  willing  to  help  me.  I'm  not  nearly  so  bad  as 
Eva  thinks.  I  don't  want  to  do  anything  wrong ;  I 
never  did  want  to  do  anything  wrong.  Of  course  you 
don't  understand.  Lady  Caterham " 

"The  fact  is,  that  Lady  Newark  is  not  allowed  to 
obey  the  voice  of  her  own  conscience, "  interrupted 
Sir  Ealph. 

Lady  Caterham  glared  at  him.  "  Who — who  is  this 
— this  person  ?  "  she  asked  Eva. 

"Of  course  you'll  consider  my  conduct  very  un- 
usual, "  said  he. 

"  Unusual ! "  cried  Lady  Caterham.  "  It  is  unwar- 
rantable and  impertinent  to  a  degree ! " 

"Naturally  you  think  so,"  said  Sir  Ealph,  not  in 
the  least  abashed.  "It  is  no  pleasant  task  for  me  to 
have  to  defend  a  lady,  who  is  almost  a  stranger  to 
me,  against  the  tyranny  of  one  of  her  own  people. 
Lady  Newark  asked  me  to  come  here,  and  I  came  as  a 
matter  of  duty.  Evidently  you  don't  understand  the 
[110] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


situation.  The  fact  is  that  Lady  Newark  wishes  to 
join  the  Catholic  Church,  but  dares  not  do  so  for 
fear  of  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower. " 

"You  see,  you  see,  Lady  Caterham.  You  see, 
Eva!"  cried  the  Marchioness.  "I  must  do  what  I 
think  right.  And  you  know,  Eva,  that  you  yourself 
thought  of  becoming  a  Catholic  once.  You  must 
admit  that ! " 

"There  has  evidently  been  a  misunderstanding," 
said  Lady  Caterham.  "  My  niece  would  not  dream  of 
interfering  with  your  freedom  or  your  religious  opin- 
ions. ...  I  am  sure  that  you  do  not  wish  to  cause 
us  pain  by  prolonging  the  attendance  of  this — this 
person  1 " 

"No,  no,"  said  the  miserable  woman,  whereupon 
Sir  Ealph  bowed  to  her,  and  walked  towards  the 
door. 

Lady  Newark's  eyes  followed  him,  then  flashed  a 
terrified  glance  at  the  two  ladies,  who  were  unable  to 
prevent  the  scorn  from  appearing  upon  their  faces, 
and  then  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  fled  out  of  the  room. 

Eva  sank  into  a  chair,  completely  beaten,  unable 
to  speak.  Lady  Caterham  remained  standing,  trying 
to  collect  her  wits,  to  understand  what  had  happened. 
Suddenly  a  sob  shook  her.  "Eva,  O  Eva,  this  is 
terrible ! "  she  cried.  "  And  in  this  room,  too !  Ah, 
my  poor  brother — thank  God  he  died  before  Tan- 
worth's  degradation  and  that  other  awful  event! 
But  Eva,  Eva,  do  you  understand  what  this  woman 
said?  Do  you  realise  your  position?  You  are  an 
unwelcome  guest  and  I  am  an  intruder.  A  servant 
[111] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


may  enter  at  any  moment  with  orders  to  show  us  the 
door.  How  has  it  happened?  how  could  you  have 
placed  yourself  in  such  a  terribly  undignified  posi- 
tion ?  You  have  thrust  yourself  upon  the  hospitality 
of  this  woman,  and  she  resents  it.  She  seeks  out  a 
young  man,  who  admits  that  he  is  almost  a  stranger 
to  her,  and  asks  him  here  to  protect  her  against  you. 
You  owe  her  an  apology.  You  must  leave  this  house 
at  once.  Don't  think  that  I  am  any  longer  angry 
with  you,  my  poor  niece.  I  sympathise  with  you.  I 
know  what  your  feelings  must  be.  I  take  it  that  this 
scene  has  been  sprung  upon  you,  that  you  were  quite 
unprepared  for  this  woman's  outbreak,  that  you  have 
been  living  in  a  fool's  paradise,"  Here  the  speaker 
changed  her  tone.  "  I  cannot  congratulate  you  upon 
the  results  of  your  management, "  said  she.  "  But  of 
course  you  will  continue  to  go  your  own  way  and  to 
oppose  me  and  the  other  members  of  your  family. " 

At  that  Eva  rose  and  put  her  hand  upon  the  older 
lady's  arm.  "You  do  not  want  to  prolong  my 
agony,"  she  said.  "At  this  moment  you  will  not 
taunt  me  and  cast  in  my  teeth  the  mistakes  I  have 
made  in  the  past.  You  will  think  of  all  the  suffering 
I  have  endured,  and  pity  me. " 

Lady  Caterham  was  moved  by  this  appeal  and  by 
her  niece's  tragic  look.  "My  house  is  open  to  you," 
said  she.  "  I  have  always  wished  to  have  you  with 
me,  Eva.     Come  to  me.     Come  the  moment  you  can. " 

"Yes,"  said  the  other.  "Yes,  I  will  come  to  you. 
Thank  you,  thank  you !  " 

Shortly  after  this  a  servant  entered  to  say  that 
[112] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Caterham's  carriage  was  below,  and  the  aunt 
and  niece  parted. 

Half -an -hour  later  Eva  was  in  her  bed-room,  medi- 
tating upon  the  recently  enacted  scene.  She  could 
not  understand  what  had  brought  it  about,  why  her 
sister-in-law  had  behaved  as  she  had  done;  she 
recalled  her  words,  her  complaints  that  she  was 
unhappy,  that  she  had  been  unjustly  treated.  But  it 
was  impossible  that  the  woman  really  thought  or  felu 
that;  over  and  over  again,  several  times  a  day,  she 
had  expressed  her  indebtedness  to  Eva,  embraced 
her,  signified  her  approval  of  her  plans.  She  was 
certainly  a  very  treacherous  person,  she  was  indeed 
beneath  contempt,  and  Eva  would  never  forgive  her. 
The  girl  regretted  that  she  would  have  to  see  her 
again,  and  determined  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of 
quitting  her  roof  and  breaking  off  all  relations  with 
her.  She  bestowed  not  a  thought  upon  the  conse- 
quences to  herself  of  the  rupture,  upon  the  great 
reduction  of  her  power  and  importance  that  it  would 
bring  about;  her  energy  was  employed  in  casting 
about  in  her  mind  for  an  explanation  of  the  Mar- 
chioness' conduct.  It  was  not  long  before  one  oc- 
curred to  her,  and  the  more  she  thought  of  it  the 
more  convinced  she  was  that  it  was  the  true  one. 

It  was  absurd  to  think  that  her  sister-in-law  had 
nourished  feelings  of  enmity  against  her  all  these 
months ;  not  a  disagreeable  word  had  passed  between 
them  till  after  the  widow's  secret  interview  with  Sir 
Ealph  Vancelour.  He,  and  after  him  Father  Mac- 
donald,  had  persuaded  her  that  she  was  unhappy  and 
8  [  113  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


egged  her  on  to  this  quarrel,  with  the  intention  of 
annexing  her  to  Rome  and  at  the  same  time  of  pun- 
ishing Eva  herself  for  her  refractory  attitude  towards 
that  power.  The  Baronet,  Father  Macdonald,  Mon- 
signor  Vancelour,  nay  perhaps  even  the  organist  were 
in  league  to  bring  about  those  results ;  and  she  saw  in 
their  endeavours  a  good  illustration  of  the  way  Rome 
works,  her  craft,  her  subtlety,  her  wonderful  organi- 
sation. But  she  would  do  justice  to  that  power;  her 
chief  aim  was  not  to  gain  material  possessions  but  to 
win  and  subdue  personalities,  souls,  characters,  by 
undermining  certain  qualities  and  raising  others.  In 
her  own  case  pride  was  the  obstacle;  that  was  her 
citadel,  her  refuge,  and  till  Rome  had  undermined  it 
she  was  a  free  woman.  Sore,  wounded  though  she 
was,  she  experienced  a  thrill  at  the  thought  that  she 
was  not  yet  conquered.  Oh  that  she  could  deal  a 
retaliatory  blow !  Oh  that  she  could  hit  her  enemy ! 
Luckily  there  always  had  been  and  were  mighty 
powers  banded  against  Rome ! 

As  thus  interpreted,  the  sc^ne  lost  its  mean  and 
vulgar  aspect,  and  what  had  appeared  a  mere 
woman's  quarrel  became  an  act  in  a  momentous 
drama,  whereof  the  motive  was  the  struggle  between 
herself  and  Rome,  the  crafty  foe  of  man's  intellect 
and  freedom. 


[lU] 


CHAPTER  X 
Lady  Eva  Resists  the  Influence 

Several  days  passed  before  Eva  took  up  her  resi- 
dence witli  her  aunt  in  Eaton  Square.  She  had  to 
render  an  account  of  her  management  of  Lady 
Newark's  affairs,  to  make  up  her  books  and  hand 
them  over,  to  run  down  to  Tanworth  and  Cottesley, 
to  meet  the  chief  ofl&cials  of  the  widow's  households. 
The  sisters-in-law  were  thrown  together  during  these 
proceedings  and  addressed  each  other  as  of  old,  but 
both  felt  that  the  rupture  was  complete  and  looked 
forward  to  their  parting.  The  services  of  Miss  Norris 
were  dispensed  with,  Eva  no  longer  needing  a  com- 
panion, and  Lady  Braintree  was  sent  temporarily  to 
Cottesley  with  a  small  staff  of  servants. 

Lady  Caterham  received  her  niece  kindly  and  made 
no  references  to  the  past ;  but  Eva  found  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  accommodate  herself  to  her  new  surroundings. 
She  had  been  accustomed  to  rule,  she  had  now  to 
obey,  or  rather  to  fall  in  with  arrangements  not  of 
her  own  making ;  she  missed  the  luxuries,  the  splen- 
dour, the  grand  apartments  of  Newark  House;  her 
aunt's  style  of  living  was  altogether  different  from 
that  to  which  she  had  grown  used.  Lady  Caterham 
allowed  her  to  participate  in  the  expenses  of  the 
household  in  Eaton  Square,  to  pay  her  way,  but  she 
[115] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


expected  her  niece  to  be  always  at  her  beck  and  call. 
There  had  never  been  much  sympathy  between  them, 
and  the  widow  had  changed  much  for  the  worse  in 
recent  years.  When  her  husband  was  alive  and  she 
was  a  rich  woman  Lady  Caterham  was  often  instanced 
as  a  typical  grande  dame,  but  her  troubles  had 
embittered  her,  and  in  these  days  she  was  not  an 
agreeable  companion.  She  loved  power  and  loved 
wealth,  and  when  she  had  possessed  them  was  a 
gracious  and  charming  woman.  She  had  been  a  good 
wife  to  Caterham,  a  dull,  plodding,  party  man  (who 
owed  his  peerage  to  her),  and  a  good  sister  to  the 
great  Lord  Newark,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  consult- 
ing her  in  the  management  of  his  department ;  she 
had  for  a  while  restrained  the  heterodox  tendencies 
of  her  second  brother,  the  Bishop  of  "Winton,  and 
prevented  her  third  brother,  Colonel  Fitzgower,  from 
quitting  the  army  and  degenerating  into  the  dandy 
and  scandal-monger  he  had  since  become.  In  her 
day  she  was  a  notable  figure,  but  her  day  was  over, 
and  she  was  now  an  embittered,  cynical,  and  prema- 
turely old  woman.  However  she  still  went  every- 
where, as  the  saying  is,  and  her  niece  had  to  accom- 
pany her ;  the  season  was  at  its  height,  and  the  ladies' 
time  was  fully  occupied  in  the  performance  of  what 
the  older  of  them  would  have  called  their  social 
duties. 

Under  such  conditions  Eva  returned  to  fashionable 

life.     But  where  was  the  glamour  she  remembered ! 

She  experienced  no  excitement,  no  gaiety  even,  in  the 

society  of  her  old  friends  and  acquaintances.     One 

[116] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


reception  resembled  another,  one  dinner-party  was 
the  model  of  the  others,  the  men  and  women  that  she 
met  were  of  a  type,  quite  unexceptionable,  refined, 
but  not  in  the  least  interesting ;  the  lavish  display  of 
wealth,  the  gathering  of  the  well-dressed  crowd  failed 
utterly  to  impress  her.  Her  senses  had  been  stirred 
by  scenes  similar  to  those  that  no^  filled  her  with 
ennui,  what  now  seemed  dull  and  commonplace  had 
once  shone  brightly  in  her  vision:  society  had  not 
changed ;  but  the  fancies  and  emotions  it  had  stimu- 
lated in  the  debutante  had  sprung  into  a  great  pas- 
sion; she  had  loved  and  the  experience  had  trans- 
formed her;  her  loss  in  tragic  circumstances  had 
again  stirred  her  nature  to  its  depths;  and  then  in 
magnificent  retirement  she  had  fallen  gradually 
under  the  influence  of  a  masterful  idea.  Society 
was  hopelessly  dull,  neither  good  nor  bad,  until  she 
regarded  it  as  "the  world,"  as  the  foe  of  the  Church. 
Meanwhile  she  frequently  met  her  own  friend, 
Mortimer,  both  in  Eaton  Square,  when  he  called  upon 
Lady  Caterham,  and  elsewhere.  She  suspected  that 
her  aunt  was  making  use  of  him  as  an  emissary  or 
ambassador  to  detect  the  schemes  of  the  Marchioness 
or  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  reconciliation  between 
her  and  the  members  of  the  family.  Eva  was  sur- 
prised that  her  uncles  had  not  called  in  Eaton  Square 
since  she  had  taken  up  her  residence  there,  but  she 
dared  not  speak  of  them  to  Lady  Caterham,  lest  her 
aunt  should  remind  her  of  her  treatment  of  them  in 
the  past.  However,  one  day  in  the  first  week  in 
June  Lady  Caterham  announced  that  her  brothers 
[117] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


were  about  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  then  launched  out 
into  a  description  of  their  recent  history. 

"The  Bishop  dines  with  us  to-morrow,"  said  she, 
"and  your  Uncle  Percy  will  come  later  in  the  even- 
ing with  Alec.  I  hope  that  you  will  observe  your 
uncles,  for  they  arc  good  object-lessons  of  the  absurd- 
ities into  which  the  sectarian  spirit  leads  educated 
men.  As  you  know,  my  dear  niece,  our  family  is  on 
the  downward  grade;  we  are  determined  to  make 
ourselves  ridiculous.  Over  and  over  again  your  poor 
father  was  on  the  point  of  wrecking  his  career,  and 
even  as  it  was  I  fear  that  he  did  more  harm  than  good 
to  his  party.  They  say  that  he  had  too  scrupulous  a 
conscience  for  a  cabinet  minister;  perhaps  that  is 
true,  and  perhaps  your  Uncle  Edward  has  too  scrupu- 
lous a  conscience  for  a  bishop.  You  may  remember 
meeting  Hood  at  Tanworth?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Eva.  " Prof essor  Hood,  the  great 
historian. " 

"The  great  writer,  call  him.  "Well,  some  two 
years  ago  the  Bishop  invited  him  to  Winton,  where 
he  remained  a  month  or  more.  Since  then  the  Bishop 
has  been  a  changed  man.  He  was  a  splendid  organ- 
iser, a  great  administrator,  and  the  safest  bishop  on 
the  bench.  He  is  now  regarded  with  horror  .by  what 
I  suppose  is  the  dominant  party  in  the  Establishment. 
His  recent  pronouncements  upon  Orders  and  the 
Sacramental  System  have  aroused  the  indignation  of 
the  High  Church  party;  he  is  in  trouble  with  the 
leading  clergy  in  his  diocese ;  he  will  not  let  things 
be ;  he  will  not  hold  his  tongue.  Now,  dear  Edward 
[118] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


is  not  a  philosopher,  not  an  intellectual  man ;  heckled 
by  Father  Warp,  a  sharp  young  Anglican,  in  one  of 
the  reviews  he  appealed  to  science  for  support  of  his 
contentions,  whereupon  that  amiable  person,  Profes- 
sor Crewkerne,  welcomed  him  as  the  High  Priest  of 
Agnosticism,  but  rallied  him  upon  the  bitterness  of 
his  attack  upon  Christianity ! "  Here  her  ladyship 
paused  to  laugh.  "You  must  pardon  me,  Eva,  "she 
went  on.  "  My  dedr  brothers  stir  my  humour.  Now, 
the  Bishop  has  a  style,  a  gorgeous  and  inaccurate 
style,  full  of  purple  patches ;  his  book  *  Paradise ' 
won  him  fame  and  money ;  and  he  bethought  him  in 
an  evil  hour  to  write  a  work  upon  the  '  Foundations 
of  the  Faith' — or  perhaps  it  was  that  he  wished  to 
escape  from  the  nickname,  '  the  High  Priest  of  Agnos- 
ticism. '  Now  your  education  has  been  neglected,  my 
poor  Eva — ^you  had  a  way,  my  dear,  of  correcting  and 
instructing  your  teachers  or  even  dismissing  them  if 
they  proved  obstinate — and  I  fear  that  you  will  not 
appreciate  the  naivete  of  your  uncle's  advice  to 
Christians  harassed  by  doubt.  He  advised  them  to 
apply  themselves  to  the  contemplation  of  purely 
physical  phenomena,  and  instanced  the  case  of  a  New 
Zealander,  who  attained  to  a  belief  in  God  by  fixing 
his  gaze  upon  the  blue  dome  of  heaven.  The  story 
was  of  course  mercilessly  ridiculed,  and  won  for  your 
uncle  another  nickname.  He  is  now  popularly  known 
as  '  the  Great  Blue-domer! '  His  wife  and  son  have 
seceded  to  Eome " 

"Ah,  then  that  report  was  true?"  asked  Eva. 

"  Yes ;  Monsignor  Vancelour  received  them.  That 
[119] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


interests  you?  But  let  me  finish.  My  brother  is  now 
a  broken-hearted  man,  his  domestic  peace  is  wrecked, 
and  he  is  the  most  unpopular  prelate  in  the  kingdom. 
It  would  seem, "  continued  the  speaker  in  an  exasper- 
ating tone,  "that  the  Roman  Church  was  appointed 
by  fate  to  compass  the  degradation  of  our  family " 

"Why  do  you  speak  in  that  tone,  my  aunt?  "  cried 
Eva  with  warmth.  "Do  you  take  pleasure  in  our 
misfortunes ! " 

"I  take  pleasure  in  nothing,"  replied  the  bitter 
woman.  "  I  am  merely  giving  you  the  history  of  the 
family  since  you  chose  to  cast  us  off.  Well,  your 
Uncle  Percy  quitted  the  army  some  time  ago.  It 
would  seem  that  he  had  at  length  identified  the  crea- 
ture at  the  Vatican  as  the  chief  enemy  of  Britain. 
The  Pope  has  devised  a  plot  for  the  enslavement  of 
the  English  race,  and  it  is  Percy's  office  to  get  at  close 
quarters  with  the  Scarlet  Lady  and  inform  his  coun- 
trymen of  her  abominations.  Percy  is  not  nice,  my 
love.  We  must  avoid  him.  And  yet  I  don't  know 
that  we  need  do  so ;  he  is  quite  harmless  and  extreme- 
ly amusing.  In  my  old  age  I  have  acquired  a  taste 
for  caricature,  and  my  dear  brother  is  a  caricature. 
He  writes  for  the  Anti-Papist  and  has  helped  to  found 
the  Anti-Papal  League;  occasionally  he  goes  on  the 
stump.  Major  Gatling  is  with  him,  and  Vincent,  ad- 
miral of  the  fleet,  both  retired ;  and  to  see  these  grey- 
headed warriors  together  and  to  hear  them  talk  is  the 
chief  amusement  of  my  old  age.  Ah,  they  can  a  tale 
unfold  of  Rome !  '* 

Eva  was  silent  for  a  while.  At  length  she  said :  "  I 
[120] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


have  not  liked  to  ask  you  before ;  has  my  little — has 
Tanworth's  widow  seceded  to  Eome'? " 

"Oh,  dear  me,  yes,  and  is  completely  in  the  hands 
of  the  priests. " 

"Have  you  called  upon  her  since — since " 

"Yes,  several  times.     The  Bishop  has  also  called." 
"  He  is  more  anxious  to  see  her  than  me  ?  " 
Lady  Caterham  shrugged  her  shoulders.     "  It  is  his 
duty  to  bring  her  back  to  the  Establishment. " 
"Do  you  think  he  will  do  so?  " 
"No,  but  I  think  I  shall ;  at  any  rate  I  shall  try  to, 
but  not  at  present.     You  may  rest  assured,  my  niece, 
that  I  shall  not  allow  her  to  remain  under  the  power 
of  the  priests  if  I  can  help  it.     But  Catholic  priests 
are  very  clever  men,  and  when  they  have  gained  a 
footing  in  a  household  it  is  not  easy  to  dislodge  them." 
Eva  sought  her  room  and  pondered  what  her  aunt 
had  told  her.     So  her  kinsfolk  were  engaged  in  the 
same  contest  as  herself ;  the  Bishop,  her  Uncle  Percy, 
and  her  aunt  were  all  in  their  several  ways  at  war 
with  Rome. 


[121] 


CHAPTEE  XI 

The  Bishop  op  Winton  and  Colonel  Fitzgowek 

The  Bishop  of  Winton  was  regarded  by  his  brother 
bishops  as  the  enfant  terrible  of  the  Establishment. 
He  was  a  Protestant  and  called  himself  one ;  he  held 
in  horror  the  Mass,  Sacerdotalism,  everjrthing  that 
savoured  of  Eome ;  and  his  arbitrary  methods,  aver- 
sion from  compromise,  and  want  of  tact  had  made 
him  unpopular,  not  only  with  the  High  Church  party 
but  even  with  moderate  churchmen.  For  all  that  he 
was  a  conscientious  and  thoroughly  good  man.  Till 
he  had  come  under  the  influence  of  Professor  Hood, 
his  career  had  been  very  successful,  for  he  was  a  good 
organiser  and  administrator ;  but  that  eminent  writer 
and  extremely  inaccurate  historian  had  aroused  his 
latent  dread  of  Sacerdotalism  and  urged  him  to  take 
up  the  cudgels  on  behalf  of  the  strongly  Protestant 
section  of  the  Church.  And  his  propaganda  was  a 
failure.  He  did  more  harm  than  good  to  his  party ; 
his  ideas  were  old-fashioned,  his  dialectic  was  childish. 
The  clever  young  Anglican  "fathers"  in  his  diocese, 
whom  he  was  constantly  harassing,  retaliated  upon 
him,  drove  his  arguments  home  for  him,  and  covered 
him  with  ridicule.  He  held  bravely  to  his  course, 
however,  until  his  wife  and  only  son  seceded  to  Rome ; 
and  he  was  reeling  from  these  staggering  blows  when 
Eva  saw  him  in  her  aunt's  house  in  Eaton  Square. 
[122] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


The  girl  was  not  a  little  anxious  as  to  the  reception 
he  would  give  her  after  her  arbitrary  behaviour  to- 
wards him  in  the  past  year ;  and  she  felt  grateful  when 
he  came  forward  and  greeted  her  as  though  their  rela- 
tions had  never  been  disturbed.  They  met  in  the  Eed 
drawing-room,  a  long,  narrow  apartment  hung  with 
red  damask  and  lofty,  narrow  mirrors,  and  lit  by  gas 
in  crystal  chandeliers,  and  Eva  and  her  aunt  were 
dressed  for  dinner  in  black  velvet.  After  the  intro- 
ductory salutes  the  Bishop  said,  "we  have  suffered 
much  of  late,  my  niece,  and  are  in  need  of  one  an- 
other's sympathy.  But — ."  He  paused  and  glanced 
at  his  sister.  "Oh,  Eva  will  feel  sympathy  with  you, 
I  am  sure,"  she  said. 

"I  should  have  liked  you  to  come  to  me  to  the  Pal- 
ace," said  he  to  Eva,  "but  I  have  no  wife  now.  My 
wife  and  I  are  living  apart,  I  mean.  She  is  not 
happy  out  of  London  now ;  she  is  attached  to  a  Eom- 
ish  chapel  and  attends  it  daily.  But  I  understand 
from  Tanworth's  widow  that  you  are  friendly  with 
Mr.  Vancelour — I  mean  the  priest." 

"  I  am  not  friendly  with  him, "  said  Eva. 

"Ah,  you  are  not?  "  said  he  with  relief.  "Then  I 
may  tell  you  that  he  has  robbed  me  of  my  wife. 
Hood  warned  me  against  the  man :  he  told  me  plainly 
that  Vancelour  would  get  hold  of  my  poor  wife. 
Those  were  his  very  words.  *  You  must  hate  these 
Eomish  priests  as  I  do,'  he  added." 

"That  is  a  characteristic  utterance  of  Professor 
Hood's,"  said  Lady  Caterham,  who  as  usual  was 
snappish  and  disagreeable  when  in  the  presence  of 
[123] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


her  brother.  "He  often  told  me  that  the  priests 
would  get  hold  of  me ;  he  says  it  to  every  woman  he 
comes  across,  and  it's  extremely  silly  and  offensive. 
He  was  grossly  impertinent  to  one  of  the  Norbert 
girls  at  Tanworth,  and  our  brother  had  to  apologise 
to  the  Duke  of  Thanet." 

"Ah,  poor  Hood!"  sighed  the  Bishop.  "He  is 
the  most  unhappy  man  I  have  ever  known — he,  the 
most  upright,  the  most  robust  and  stimulating  of 
moral  teachers.  And  you  see  he  was  right,  my 
sist«r ;  these  priests  do  get  hold  of  the  women,  ay,  and 
of  the  men  too.  For  of  course  you  know  that  my 
wretched  son  has  been  ensnared  ? "  said  he,  turning  to 
E^'^a.  "Arthur  a  papist!  You  knew  him  well,"  he 
turned  to  Lady  Caterham.  "Did  he  strike  you  as 
being  morbid  or  effeminate?  He  was  an  Engli^ 
gentleman,  a  soldier ;  he  never  discussed  religion  with 
me,  nor  books,  nor  theories  of  any  sort ;  his  talk  was 
of  hunting  and  shooting  and  cricket  and  matters 
connected  with  his  profession.  As  you  know,  when 
in  London  he  stopped  with  our  brother — not  a  man 
inclined  to  Eomanism ! "  added  the  Bishop  with  a 
bitter  laugh. 

"  And  you  encouraged  Arthur's  intimacy  with  our 
brother?  "  asked  Lady  Caterham  in  a  sarcastic  tone. 

"Very  naturally,"  said  the  Bishop  with  surprise. 
"  Both  were  soldiers.  Percy  has  been  a  great  soldier 
in  his  time,  and  I  thought  that  he  would  sustain 
Arthur's  enthusiasm  for  his  profession.  They  had 
many  interests  in  common ;  both  were  sportsmen ; 
and  I  wanted  my  son  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
[124] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


men  who  had  already  distinguished  themselves  in  the 
service.  I  was  particularly  anxious  that  he  should 
be  kept  free  from  morbid,  effeminate,  and  unhealthy 
influences.  I  discouraged  him  from  reading  modern 
literature — for  the  classics  he  had  no  taste.  I 
wanted  him  to  be  a  typical  English  soldier. " 

"But  why  cannot  he  be  that  and  a  Eoman  Catho- 
lic?" asked  Eva. 

"  He  has  sent  in  his  papers  and  talks  about  becom- 
ing a  Jesuit.  I  have  found  it  useless  to  argue  or 
remonstrate  with  him.  Poor  boy!  he  was  an  easy 
prey ;  knowing  little  or  nothing  about  theology,  he  of 
course  succumbed  to  Mr.  Yancelour.  That  is  the 
way  with  Eomish  priests ;  as  Hood  says,  they  get  hold 
of  the  women  and  the  young  men. " 

"Arthur  is  five-and-twenty,"  put  in  Eva.  "And 
he  must  have  gone  to  Monsignor  Yancelour. " 

"You  don't  understand  the  ways  of  Romish 
priests ! " 

"But  I  happen  to  know  this  priest  a  little." 

"Newark  invited  him  to  Tanworth  two  or  three 
times,"  explained  Lady  Caterham.  "He  is  the  uncle 
of  Sir  Ralph,  who  was  with  Tanworth 's  widow  when 
we  called  upon  her. " 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  said  the  Bishop,  "and  that 
reminds  me  that  I  called  again  upon  her  yesterday. 
But  I  was  told  that  a  Mr.  Macdonald  was  with  her,  so 
I  gave  in  my  name  and  came  away. " 

Lady  Caterham  frowned.  "Oh,  why  didn't  you 
see  her  in  the  presence  of  the  priest?"  she  cried. 
"The  woman  is  a  miserable  coward.  She  was  terri- 
[125] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


bly  afraid  of  Eva,  who  coerced  her  and  bullied  her 
and " 

"Oh  no,  no,  my  aunt,"  the  girl  remonstrated.  "I 
was  not  so  unkind  as  that.  She  never  gave  me  any 
indication  that  she  was  unhappy ;  she  was  most  affec- 
tionate and  always  thanking  me  for  what  I  did  for 
her." 

"  So  far  as  I  understand,  she  sought  the  aid  of  the 
Eomish  Church  against  you,"  said  the  Bishop. 
"  Who  first  put  the  idea  of  Rome  into  her  head  ? " 

Eva  winced.     "I  am  afraid  that  I  did,"  she  said. 

"Then  you  have  no  reason  to  thank  the  Romish 
Church,"  said  he. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  every  reason  to  detest  it. " 

"And  do  you  detest  it?  " 

"I  did  not." 

The  Bishop  threw  a  searching  glance  at  her  and 
was  about  to  question  her,  when  Lady  Caterham  inter- 
posed: "If  you  had  seen  Tan  worth's  widow  in  the 
presence  of  Father  Macdonald  and  had  outstayed  him 
you  might  have  brought  her  back  to  her  proper 
church.  As  it  is  she'll  think  you  are  afraid  of  facing 
a  priest." 

"I  cannot  meet  priests  just  at  present,  my  dear 
sister,"  said  he  meekly.  "They  have  robbed  me  of 
my  wife  and  son,  and  I  might  say  things  to  them  that 
I  should  afterwards  regret.  But  I  want  to  know  how 
far  the  acquaintance  between  Eva  and  Mr.  Vancelour 
has  gone.     Have  you  ever  seen  him  alone,  my  niece?  " 

"  I  don't  think  we  need  trouble  Eva  by  talking 
about  the  Roman  Church,"  interposed  Lady  Cater- 
[126] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ham.  "She  may  have  been  attracted  by  it  once,  but 
she  has  long  ceased  to  think  any  more  about  it.  She 
and  Tanworth's  widow  were  much  alone  and  got  into 
a  morbid,  unhealthy  state  of  mind.  Now  that  Eva 
has  taken  her  proper  place  in  the  world  and  is  fulfill- 
ing her  duties,  she  has  no  time  to  waste  on  idle 
fancies. " 

But  the  Bishop  would  not  allow  the  matter  to  drop. 
"My  poor  wife  and  son  are  lost  finally,"  said  he, 
"and  the  same  may  be  the  case  with  Tanworth's 
widow.  We  may  be  in  time  to  save  Eva.  Did  you 
have  an  interview  with  Mr.  Vancelour?  " 

"Yes." 

*'Then  of  course  you  are  a  Eomanist?  " 

"Oh,  no." 

"Perhaps  you  had  better  tell  us  what  happened  at 
the  interview,"  said  Lady  Caterham. 

"Dear  aunt,  the  subject  is  a  painful  one  to  me.  I 
— I  asked  him  to  receive  me  into  the  Catholic 
Church " 

"Asked  him  to  receive  you  into  the  Eomish 
Church?"  cried  the  Bishop.  "Then  of  course  he 
did  so!" 

"N — o,  n — o,"  stammered  Eva.  "He  would  not 
receive  me  into  the  Church." 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  Lady  Caterham  was  so 
unkind  as  to  say.  "I  must  ask  you  to  pardon  me  if  I 
hurt  your  feelings,  Eva,  but  Monsignor  Vancelour  is 
probably,  like  most  Catholic  priests,  a  very  clever 
fellow,  and  no  doubt  he  realised  at  once  that  you 
would  be  a  source  of  infinite  trouble  to  him.  And 
[127] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Eva,  my  poor  Eva,  you  are  not  worth  the  trouble  you 
would  give  him !  Now  Lady  Newark — she's  different. 
She's  very  rich,  to  begin  with." 

"I  cannot  accept  your  explanation,"  said  the 
Bishop.  "The  Romish  priests  are  only  too  ready  to 
convert  people." 

"  Perhaps  he  thought  that  I  was  not  in  the  proper 
disposition  to  join  the  Church,"  Eva  suggested. 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  the  Bishop,  and  rising  from  his 
seat  he  paced  the  room.  "  Ah,  now  I  understand ! 
He  was  right,  Eva,  the  man  was  right ;  you  are  not 
in  the  proper  disposition  to  join  the  Eomish  Church. 
If  you  became  a  Romanist  to-morrow,  the  next  day 
you  would  turn  Anglican  again.  You  must  be  broken 
in !  You  must  be  broken  in !  Your  character  must 
be  undermined !  I  wish  that  you  could  see  my  poor 
misguided  son.  He  goes  about  like  a  man  with  a 
weight  upon  his  shoulders,  he  speaks  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice,  he  never  smiles;  and  he  was  once  a  Guards- 
man ! " 

The  Bishop  paced  the  room  in  silence  for  a  while, 
his  eyes  opening  and  shutting,  for  he  was  almost 
reduced  to  tears.  "My  wife  and  I  cannot  live 
together  now, "  he  resumed.  "  She  must  attend  Mass 
daily,  confide  her  most  intimate  secrets  to  this  man, 
and  do  his  bidding;  while  I  am  not  allowed  to  re- 
monstrate with  her  or  argue  with  her  or  even  advise 
her.  She  has  been  broken  in!  Poor,  sweet,  gentle- 
minded  Mildred !  She  who  is  almost  incapable  of  sin 
regards  herself  as  a  sinful  woman,  weeps  when  she 
prays,  I  hear,  and  is  trying  to  form  herself  upon  the 
[128] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


model  of  an  hysterical  and  diseased  nun.  She  is 
reading  that  demoralising  and  det;estable  book  of 
Caroline  Norbert's.  They  have  both  left  me!  I 
have  no  wife  and  no  son ! " 

There  was  genuine  pathos  in  these  words,  and  the 
tone  and  expression  of  the  man  were  most  impressive. 

The  girl  ran  to  her  uncle.  "Oh,  I  didn't  know  of 
this! "  she  cried.  "I  didn't  really,  or  I  should  never 
have  been  so  unkind!  Dear  uncle,  can  you  forgive 
mel  If  I  had  thought  that  you  were  in  trouble  I 
should  have  come  to  you  at  once.  How  horrible  that 
I  should  have  behaved  so  badly  to  you !  " 

The  Bishop  looked  at  her  with  a  sad  smile.  "My 
dearest  niece,  it  is  not  your  fault  that  my  wife  and 
son  have  left  me, "  said  he. 

"Oh  no!  And  yet — but  they'll  come  back;  they 
will  get  over  this — this  infatuation  for  Eomanism. 
You  know,  I  do,  I  do  detest  the  Eomish  Church ! " 

At  length  Lady  Caterham  managed  to  change  the 
subject,  and  at  dinner  the  conversation  fell  upon  the 
old  days  when  the  Great  Lord  Newark  was  alive  and 
all  the  members  of  the  family  were  prosperous  and 
happy.  The  Bishop  adopted  a  more  cheerful  tone, 
and  pleased  and  touched  his  niece  by  referring  to  the 
pride  his  brother  had  taken  in  her.  After  dinner  he 
asked  her  to  sing  to  him,  and  she  complied  with  the 
request.     Shortly  after  ten  o'clock  he  took  his  leave. 

The  Bishop  of  Winton  was  a  man  deserving  of  sym- 
pathy ;  his  brother,  Colonel  the  Hon.  Percy  Fitzgower, 
was  a  laughing-stock.  Once  a  gallant  soldier,  he  was 
now  a  farcical  person,  the  embodiment  of  a  ridiculous 
9  [  129  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


type.  He  had  long  legs,  one  of  them  gouty,  and  a 
military  bearing,  and  a  huge  iron-grey  moustache. 
He  was  gallant  to  young  women  and  called  them  "My 
dear";  older  women  he  addressed  as  " Ma'am " ;  and 
he  had  a  hectoring,  bullying,  or  boisterously  familiar 
way  with  men.  "Rome"  was  his  theme.  Wags 
prompted  him.  "Rome,"  said  they,  and  he  would 
repeat  the  word,  tug  fiercely  at  his  moustache,  and 
unfold  a  tale.  If  only  men  were  present  and  he  was 
backed  up  by  his  friend  Vincent,  the  tale  would  be 
very  shocking.  It  would  begin  thus;  "When  we 
were  in  Naples — eh,  Vincent ! "  or  "  When  we  were  in 
Paris — eh,  Vincent!"  Priests  and  nuns  were  the 
chief  characters.  He  had  an  anecdote  about  the 
Vatican,  the  point  of  which  most  people  missed. 
They  thought  that  it  was  meant  to  illustrate  the  facts 
that  Pope  Pius  DC  was  a  benevolent  old  gentleman 
and  Colonel  Fitzgower  an  unmitigated  cad ;  but  that 
was  a  tale  for  polite  ears.  The  Colonel  preferred 
plain-speaking,  but  though  he  had  a  taste  for  the  foul 
he  was  willing  to  respect  the  prejudices  of  people  and 
was  not  always  disgusting.  He  could  be  solemn  and 
mysterious,  and  was  so  in  his  letters  to  The  Times  and 
in  his  contributions  to  the  Reviews,  for  his  work  was 
accepted  by  high-class  periodicals  on  account  of  his 
gallant  past,  his  illustrious  name,  his  curious  style, 
and  the  amusement  he  afforded.  But  many  people 
took  him  seriously,  and  his  tracts  and  magazine.  The 
Anti-Papist,  were  read  eagerly  and  his  speeches  gravely 
listened  to  by  that  still  large  class  of  English  people 
who  regard  the  Catholic  Church  as  the  masterpiece  of 
[130] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Satan.  The  Eitualists  and  High  Church  Anglicans 
were  of  course  "Jesuits  in  disguise,"  and  he  attacked 
them  with  great  violence ;  indeed  the  most  shameful 
and  libelous  of  his  productions  was  directed  at  a 
highly  revered  prelate  of  the  Established  Church. 
It  would  seem,  however,  that  Anglicans  and  Roman 
Catholics  had  shaken  hands  over  the  matter  of 
Colonel  Fitzgower,  and  agreed  to  ignore  him.  To 
most  people  he  was  a  joke,  an  institution,  a  man  to 
be  encouraged  in  these  dull  and  solemn  days.  Oc- 
casionally he  had  an  ex-priest  or  an  escaped  nun  for 
exhibition ;  but  though  the  immorality  of  priests  and 
nuns  was  one  of  his  chief  counts  against  Rome,  it 
must  not  be  supposed  that  he  was  a  milksop.  Boys 
must  be  boys  but  priests  must  not,  according  to  this 
moralist ;  and  he  and  his  friend  Vincent  were  boys, 
and  proclaimed  the  fact  when  the  port  was  in  them. 
At  such  times  his  anecdotes  began  as  usual  with, 
"When  we  were  in  Paris — eh,  Vincent!"  or  "When 
we  were  in  Vienna— eh,  Vincent ! "  but  the  heroes 
thereof  were  himself  and  his  friend.  Port  warmed 
the  old  boy's  heart  and  caused  him  to  forget  his  enmity 
to  Rome  and  to  feel  generously  disposed  towards  all 
mankind.  "Go  all  of  you  to  Paris,  to  Naples,  to 
Vienna,  or  wherever  there's  any  fun  to  be  had.  I'm 
not  the  boy  to  say  you  no — eh,  Vincent !  "  expressed 
the  sentiment  of  Colonel  Fitzgower  when  under  the 
influence  of  wine. 

On  his  way  to  Lady  Caterham's  house  he  looked  in 
at  Boodle's  Club  for  his  nephew  Alec,  and  they  pro- 
ceeded in  the  direction  of  Baton  Square.     Alec  Fitz- 
[131] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


gower  was  a  handsome  young  fellow  of  eight-and- 
twenty,  six  feet  four  in  height,  and  of  prodigious 
strength ;  he  owned  a  racing  stable  with  the  notorious 
Mrs.  Wimpole,  and  despite  his  weight  was  one  of  the 
best  riders  across  country  in  England.  The  conversa- 
tion of  the  uncle  and  nephew  dealt  at  first  with  the 
rupture  between  Eva  and  Lady  Newark,  whom  they 
and  the  other  members  of  the  family  always  referred 
to  as  Tanworth's  widow,  and  then  with  Lady  Cater- 
ham's  hopes  of  extricating  the  Marchioness  from  the 
hands  of  the  priests.  They  spoke  unsympathetically 
of  Eva,  whom  they  described  as  never  having  been 
"broken  in,"  and  who  therefore  would  never  "go 
straight, "  and  incidentally  betrayed  a  low  opinion  of 
the  sex.  They  knew  how  to  enter  a  drawing-room, 
however,  and  having  saluted  their  hostess  they  ad- 
dressed themselves  to  Eva  with  a  very  pretty  grace, 
expressing  themselves  as  at  her  service. 

Each  had  a  horse  that  would  exactly  suit  her,  and 
hoped  that  she  would  ride  it  when  in  town ;  each  had 
a  programme  of  amusements  for  her  to  choose  from 
and  entered  into  friendly  rivalry  with  the  other  for 
the  disposal  of  her  time.  Lady  Caterham  was  of  course 
included  in  these  invitations,  only  one  or  two  of  which 
were  accepted ;  and  society  and  sport  were  discussed 
till  Eva  rose  and  said  "Good -night." 

Upon  the  departure  of  the  girl  Lady  Caterham 
asked  her  brother  and  nephew  if  they  had  received 
cards  for  Lady  Newark's  reception.  They  replied 
that  they  had,  and  then  she  asked  them  if  they  had 
accepted. 

[132] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Not  I,"  said  the  Colonel.  "The  place  will  be 
packed  with  the  members  of  the  old  Papist  families." 

"Well,  perhaps  you're  right, "  interrupted  his  sister. 
"They  would  probably  give  you  the  cold  shoulder. 
But  you  must  go.  Alec.  I  have  been  seeing  Frank 
Mortimer  and  have  gathered  from  him  the  circum- 
stances that  led  to  the  quarrel  between  that  woman 
and  Eva.  My  niece  is  a  most  extraordinary  person. 
I  admire  her  greatly.  I  cannot  help  it,  badly  as  she 
has  behaved  to  us.  She  treated  Tanworth's  widow 
like  a  child,  dispossessed  her  of  her  rights,  imposed 
her  will  upon  her,  and  took  it  for  granted  that  what 
was  pleasing  to  herself  would  be  pleasing  to  her.  It 
is  a  most  curious  story.  The  important  point  is  that 
the  widow's  object  in  seeking  the  priest — Father  Mac- 
donald — was  to  secure  him  as  an  ally  against  Eva. 
Yes,  really,"  said  Lady  Caterham,  on  observing  the 
incredulous  looks  of  her  companions.  "The  woman 
submitted  to  my  dear  niece's  tyranny  till  flesh  and 
blood  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  then  flew  for  relief 
to  the  first  man  she  came  across.  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour, 
and  he  handed  her  over  to  the  priest.  Of  course 
Father  Macdonald  secured  her  for  his  church.  But 
she  will  soon  tire  of  him  and  Romanism " 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Colonel,  rising  from  his  chair. 
"The  priests  have  got  hold  of  her  and  they'll  not  let 
her  go.  You  don't  know  them  as  well  as  I  do.  But 
you  wait,  you  wait,"  said  he  impressively,  and  he 
began  to  pace  the  room,  spluttering  exclamations  under 
his  breath,  and  tugging  at  his  moustache. 

Lady  Caterham  and  her  nephew  exchanged  a  •mile. 
[133] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"He'll  begin  in  a  minute,"  whispered  the  young  man. 
"He's  been  worse  than  ever  of  late.     Sh! " 

"Of  course  Thanet  and  Dartmoor  and  the  rest  of 
the  crew  will  try  to  hush  it  up,"  said  the  Colonel, 
walking  up  and  down  and  addressing  space.  "They  '11 
try  to  make  out  that  it's  only  a  trifling  dispute  about 
church  music  or  some  detail  of  diocesan  management. 
Perhaps  old  Grimsby  will  fan  such  rumours,  but  for 
all  that  Vancelour  will  have  to  go — he'll  be  packed 
off.  Old  Grimsby's  no  fool ;  he'll  get  his  way  with 
the  Vatican  creature.  '  Father  John  does  not  care  for 
Gregorian  music, '  I  can  hear  them  say  it ;  but  that's 
not  good  enough  for  us — eh,  Vincent?  Chet^chez  la 
femniey  old  man.  Grimsby  didn't  attach  Macdonald 
to  St.  Peter's  for  nothing.  He  and  Macdonald  are  of 
the  same  kidney,  fire  and  brimstone  chaps.  .  .  .  No, 
no,  Gatling,  it  won't  do,  old  man!  Grimsby's  past 
it.  Now  Vancelour — he's  different,  but  he's  my  bird. 
Yours  is  a  wilier  bird,  and  you'll  have  to  snare  him. 
Talking  of  Grimsby,  I  met  him  the  other  day  and  said 
to  him,  '  Will  you  or  will  you  not  meet  me  on  the 
platform  next  Thursday  ? '  Of  course  he  declined,  of 
course !  So  I  said,  '  Then  with  all  due  respect,  your 
Eminence,  I  must  conclude  that  you  fear  I  should 
reduce  you  to  silence. '  And  he  said — can't  I  hear  his 
thin  i)enetrating  voice — •  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you 
could  bray  me  down ! '  " 

("Alec,  I  fancy  that  that  is  a  true  anecdote," 
whispered  Lady  Caterham.  "  I  seem  to  recognise  the 
Cardinal's  note.") 

"Catch  any  of  'em  standing  up  and  fighting  like 
[134] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


men, "  pursued  the  Colonel.    "  But  it  won't  do,  Gatling. 

Grimsby  is  far  too .     Ahem !     About  thirty  years 

ago  Vincent  and  I  were  at  the  Vatican,  and  saw  the 
fat  old  Pope.  He  was  smiling  at  a  parcel  of  women 
— ^fine  women,  doocid  fine!  Vincent  admires  those 
black-eyed  Roman  women,  and  I  never  shall  for- 
get  .     Let  me  think.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  the  idea  was 

that  we  should  dress  upas  priests  and  peep  behind  the 
scenes  a  bit.  It  was  Vincent's  idea.  Well,  we  did 
so,  and  what  happened,  if  you  please?  Why,  simply 
this :  that  on  presenting  ourselves  at  the  Vatican  some 
f  eUows  crept  behind  us  and  we  were  seized  and  locked 
up  for  the  night.  That's  the  way  the  animal  was 
allowed  to  treat  British  ofl&cers !  But  that  happened 
afterwards.  Well,  down  they  all  went  on  their  knees 
— all  except  Vincent  and  your  humble  servant. 
The  Pope  looked  at  me  and  I  could  see  him  tremble ; 
then  he  began  to  bless  the  crew.  When  he  came  to 
me  he  asked  me  why  I  didn't  kneel.  *  I  kneel  to  no 
man,'  said  I.  There  was  silence  and  then  he  said, 
'  Well  the  blessing  of  a  poor  old  man  will  do  you  no 
harm ! '  And  then  he  did  it,  blessed  me !  Never  till 
my  death  shall  I  forget  that !  I  allowed  him  to  bless 
me,  when  I  might  have  whipi)ed  him  off  his  pins  be- 
fore you  could  say  *  knife. ' " 

("Alec,  he's  rather  dull  to-day,"  whispered  Lady 
Caterham. ) 

"But  no.     Grimsby's  one  type  of  the  animal,  Van- 

celour's  t'other.     Grimsby  wants  his  clergy  to  be  tame 

brutes.      Not  they!     Not  Vancelour,   at  all  events. 

*  Cardinal  Grimsby  dislikes  the  elaborate  and  florid 

[136] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


music  performed  at  St.  Peter's  Church.'  Pooh! 
Fiddlesticks !  *  Cardinal  Grimsby  considers  Catholic- 
imn :  the  Religion  of  the  Heart ' — Eeligion  of  the  Heart 
— good  that! — 'unorthodox.'  Will  that  do,  Vincent! 
'Cardinal  Grimsby  is  jealous  of  Monsignor  Vancelour 
and  anxious  to  remove  him ;  he  wants  to  strike  a  blow 
at  the  old  Catholic  families.'  Gammon!  It's  the 
women,  old  man!  It  always  is  the  women!  The 
d d  jades!" 

At  this  Lady  Caterham  rose  to  her  feet  in  anger,  or 
assumed  anger,  and  said,  "Take  him  away,  Alec," 
whereupon  the  Colonel  stopped  suddenly,  looked  at 
the  pair  in  astonishment,  and  coloured. 

"I — I  beg  pardon,  my  sister"  said  he.  "I  was 
wandering.  I  forgot  where  I  was.  I  am  so 
sorry." 

Lady  Caterham  smiled  and  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
the  next  minute  he  took  his  departure  with  a  very 
shamefaced  air. 

"He's  quite  sane  except  on  that  subject,"  Alec  as- 
sured his  aunt.  "But  he  and  his  friends  will  get  into 
hot  water  if  they  are  not  more  careful.  They've  en- 
gaged a  man  named  Balsam  to  edit  their  journals  and 
have  established  him  in  a  shop  in  Cheapside.  He's  a 
horrible  little  animal.  He  has  set  private  inquiry 
agents  to  watch  some  of  the  prominent  Catholic  priests. 
Cardinal  Grimsby  and  Monsignor  Vancelour  among 
others.  But  the  real  danger  comes  from  Major  Cat- 
ling, who  I  think  must  be  a  monomaniac.  He  de- 
clares he  has  proof  that " 

"WeUt" 


[136] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"You  must  pardon  me,  my  aunt — proof  that  Car- 
dinal Grimsby  keeps  a  harem !  " 

Lady  Caterham  burst  into  laughter. 

"But  he  really  believes  it,  and  he  is  going  '  to  spring 
a  mine  under  Grimsby's  feet ' — his  own  words — one  of 
these  days.  Uncle  Percy  and  Vincent  would  like  to 
fight  shy  of  him — he's  a  little  too  idiotic  even  for 
them ! — but  he  has  spent  a  heap  of  money  upon  the 
League  and  is  the  proprietor  of  The  Anti-Papist  and 
landlord  of  the  shop  and  olfice  where  they  have  estab- 
lished this  man  Balsam.  Balsam  is  no  fool ;  and  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  got  the  whole  business 
into  his  own  hands  when  he  has  wheedled  the  old  mili- 
tary fellows  out  of  their  money." 

"Eeally.  And  how  about  your  own  affairs — your 
two-year  olds?" 

"Don't!  Don't!  If  ever  you  own  a  racing  stable 
with  a  member  of  the  opposite  sex ! " 

"That  I  most  assuredly  shall  not,"  said  Lady  Cater- 
ham ;  and  the  next  minute  the  aunt  and  nephew  parted. 


[1S7] 


CHAPTER  Xn 

EENE8T  DE  KERAMUR'S  CHALLENGE 

The  month  of  June  brought  Eva  no  interesting 
experiences.  She  accompanied  her  aunt  to  luncheon 
parties,  afternoon -at -homes,  dinnerparties,  receptions, 
balls,  race  meetings ;  but  they  failed  to  entertain  her. 
So  handsome  a  girl  could  not  be  overlooked  in  any 
assembly,  but  her  manner  repelled  advances  and 
rendered  intimacy  impossible.  She  was  mincingly 
polite,  embarrassingly  gracious;  her  face  wore  a  set 
smile;  when  addressed  she  bent  her  head  deferen- 
tially, but  paid  no  attention  to  what  her  interlocutor 
said.  A  sense  of  the  failures  and  humiliations  she 
had  suffered  in  her  attempt  to  develop  her  personality 
had  led  her  to  adopt  this  conventional  attitude ;  she 
was  trying  to  suppress  herself,  to  be  as  others  were, 
to  be  as  she  would  have  said  an  "ordinary  person." 
Experience  had  taught  her  that  the  career  of  an 
extraordinary  person  was  beset  with  trouble  to  herself 
and  others,  and  she  was  following  a  course  that  would 
have  been  recommended  to  her  by  a  common-sense 
moralist. 

Her  relations  with  her  aunt  did  not  become  intimate. 
After  her  little  burst  of  confidence.  Lady  Caterham 
returned  to  her  uncommunicative  habit,  and  the  ladies 
were  for  the  most  part  silent  in  each  other's  company. 
Meanwhile  Eva  learnt  from  Mortimer  that  her  aunt 
[138] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Newark  House,  and  that 
gentleman  also  told  her  that  the  Marchioness  was 
making  friends  among  the  Catholic  old  families 
through  the  introduction  of  the  clergy  of  St.  Peter's. 
For  her  own  part  Eva  would  far  sooner  not  have  had 
to  meet  her  sister-in-law  again,  but  Lady  Caterham 
had  made  a  point  of  her  accepting  the  latter's  invita- 
tion to  her  first  reception,  and  the  girl  felt  that  in  the 
future  her  attitude  towards  the  Marchioness  would  be 
determined  for  her  by  her  aunt. 

One  afternoon  in  the  first  week  in  June  and  a  couple 
of  days  before  Lady  Newark's  reception,  the  organist, 
Ernest  de  Keramur,  called  in  Eaton  Square  and  asked 
to  see  Lady  Eva.  This  struck  the  girl  as  an  unwar- 
rantable proceeding  on  his  part,  and  she  felt  inclined 
to  send  down  a  request  that  he  would  explain  what  he 
wanted  of  her.  She  repeated  his  name,  and  asked 
herself,  "And  who  is  he,  pray?"  though  she  remem- 
bered him  quite  well  as  the  "person  who  played  the 
organ."  After  some  hesitation,  however,  she  decided 
to  see  him,  and  encountering  her  aunt  on  her  way 
downstairs,  an  impulse  prompted  her  to  say,  "M.  de 
Keramur  has  called." 

"  Indeed.     And  who  is  he  ?  "  asked  Lady  Caterham. 

"A  person  who  plays  the  organ,"  replied  Eva  a 
little  defiantly ;  and  the  next  minute  she  was  in  the 
drawing-room  and  regarding  the  organist  with  a  look 
that  plainly  asked  him  to  explain  his  business.  But 
before  he  had  time  to  speak  her  expression  changed. 
She  was  conscious,  as  on  the  two  other  occasions  she 
had  seen  him,  of  being  pleased  with  his  appearance 
[139] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


and.  bearing,  and  she  smiled  and  bowed,  but  did  not 
offer  him  her  hand  nor  motion  him  to  a  seat. 

"I  want  you  to  come  to  St.  Peter's  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing," said  he,  a  little  chilled  by  her  reception.  "We 
are  going  to  have  Beethoven's  Mass  in  C,  and  I  should 
like  you  to  hear  it.  I  have  got  the  choir  completely 
under  my  control  now  and  they  sing  splendidly." 

"I  am  so  glad  that  you  have  been  successful,"  said 
she  in  a  conventional  tone.  "You  know  Lady  Cater- 
ham?    Nol "  and  she  looked  surprised. 

At  this  his  sensitive  face  expressed  disappoint- 
ment and  for  a  moment  he  was  at  a  loss.  "  I  thought 
it  would  interest  you  to  hear  about  the  Mass,"  said  he. 

"Oh,  it  does,"  said  she,  not  enthusiastically. 

"  And  then  if  you  remember  you  asked  me  to  teach 
you  the  organ " 

"I  must  ask  you  kindly  to  forget  that  suggestion 
about  the  lessons, "  she  interrupted.  "  You  see,  I  do  not 
live  so  near  the  church  as  I  used  to,  and  then  I  am  sure 
that  Monsignor  Vancelour  would  not  like  you  to  teach 
me  at  St.  Peter's,  as  I  am  not  a  Eoman  Catholic." 

"Oh,  he  would  not  dislike  it,"  said  Ernest  despond- 
ently, for  he  felt  that  he  could  not  contend  against 
her  manner. 

His  tone  reminded  her  that  she  was  behaving  some- 
what ungi-aciously,  and  she  asked  him  to  take  a  seat. 
"As  I  said,  I  am  not  a  Catholic  and  therefore  am 
disinclined  to  enter  a  Catholic  church.  You  will 
understand  the  feeling,  I  am  sure." 

But  he  didn't  understand  it.  He  had  met  her  in  a 
Catholic  church,  and  she  had  shown  her  pleasure  in 
[140] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


being  there  and  her  interest  in  the  building,  in  the 
organ,  in  Monsignor,  nay  in  himself.  "You  have 
changed, "  escaped  his  lips.     "I  beg  your  pardon,  I 

mean  you  have  lost  your  interest  in "    He  checked 

the  word  "us,"  substituting,  "what  once  interested 
you." 

Had  she  admitted  that,  he  could  not  but  have  taken 
a  speedy  departure ;  but  no  one  likes  to  be  charged 
with  changeableness.  Moreover,  the  young  man's  tone 
betrayed  genuine  feeling,  regret,  as  he  made  the  sug- 
gestion, so  that  to  have  accepted  it  at  once  would  have 
seemed  unkind.  "  No, "  said  she,  seating  herself.  "  I 
have  not  lost  interest  in  the  Catholic  Church.  I  still 
think  it  very  very  interesting.      But — it  is  a  little 

difficult  to  explain — I  once  thought  that  I  might . 

However,  we  were  discussing  the  organ.  That  is  a 
splendid  instrument  that  you  have  at  St.  Peter's. " 

"Yes,"  said  he,  kindling;  "and  I  am  so  anxious 
that  you  should  hear  it  again  on  Sunday  morning." 

"Why  not  at  some  other  time!  " 

Ernest  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  replied,  "I 
want  you  to  be  present  at  the  Mass. " 

"  Ah,  I  understand !    Monsignor  Vancelour  has " 

"Oh,  no,"  interrupted  the  young  man.  "On  the 
contrary,  he  told  me  that  I  had  no  right  to  find  out 
your  address  and  call  upon  you,  that  it  would  be  an 
unusual  thing  to  do,  that  you  would  regard  it  as  an 
intrusion;  but  I  told  him  that  he  was  mistaken.  I 
felt  certain  that  it  would  interest  you  to  be  present  at 
the  Mass,  that  you  would  be  impressed  and  glad  that 
yoa  had  come." 

[la] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"I  see.  But  surely,  M.  de  Keramur,  you  realise 
that  you  have  taken  a  very  unusual  step  ?  You  say 
that  you  want  me  to  be  present  at  the  Mass  that  I 
might  be  impressed  by  it.  That  must  mean  that  you 
have  come  here  with  the  idea  of  proselytising  me." 

He  did  not  deny  it.  "Ah,  Lady  Eva,  I  knew  that 
I  was  taking  an  unusual  com-se,"  he  cried,  "but  I  had 
hoped  that  you  would  not  think  of  that.  I  gathered 
that  you  were  deeply  interested  in  Holy  Church  and 
disposed  to  join  us,  that  you  felt  the  beauty  of  our 
services,  that  you  were  coming  to  us  for  peace  of  mind 
and  happiness.  But  something  has  happened — I  do 
not  know  what  and  it  would  be  impertinent  of  me  to 
inquire — that  has  made  you  halt  in  your  approach, 
and  I  hoped  to  draw  you  on  again  by  my  music,  to 
get  you  to  the  church,  so  that  you  should  be  present 
at  the  Mass. " 

"You  fulfilled  what  you  regarded  as  your  duty?" 
she  asked  in  a  tone  which  warned  him  that  the  idea  of 
dismissing  him  at  once  and  forever  was  still  hovering 
in  her  mind. 

"No,  I  did  not  regard  it  in  that  light,"  he  replied. 
"  You  will  ridicule  me  or  be  offended,  I  am  afraid ; 
but  I  had  foreseen  that  I  should  come  here  and  say 
these  things  to  you.  When  I  felt  the  impulse  I  obeyed 
it;  I  did  what  I  was  appointed  to  do." 

"  Really,  M.  de  Keramur,  this  is  most  extraordinary ! 
You  say  the  strangest  things  and  I  don't  know  why  I 
listen  to  them.  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  have 
not  been  prompted  by  the  priests  without  being  aware 
of  it!" 

[  142  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


At  that  the  young  man's  face  flushed,  and  he  replied 
with  hauteur,  "You  don't  think  that." 

"It  is  a  very  natural  supposition,"  she  rejoined,  a 
little  irritated  that  he  should  take  offence  so  readily. 
"But  I  forgot;  you  have  already  said  that  Monsignor 
Vancelour  advised  you  not  to  call  here.  That  I  sup- 
pose was  after  you  had  announced  to  him  your  inten- 
tion of  calling?" 

"Yes." 

Here  a  servant  entered  saying  in  rather  a  loud  voice, 
"Tea  is  served  in  her  Ladyship's  room,  my  Lady." 

This  was  a  critical  moment  for  the  young  organist, 
and  he  glanced  quickly  at  Eva,  who  hesitated  and 
then  said,  "Are  you  in  a  hurry?  No!  Then  bring 
the  tea  here, "  she  addressed  the  servant. 

The  man  lingered  as  though  he  misunderstood  her, 
and  Eva  bent  her  brows ;  she  guessed  that  her  aunt 
had  sent  him  to  interrupt  her  colloquy  with  the  per- 
son who  played  the  organ. 

When  the  servant  had  closed  the  door  behind  him, 
she  told  Ernest  to  resume  his  seat  and  said  with  a 
smile,  "Monsignor  Vancelour  must  have  been  sur- 
prised at  that  announcement?  " 

"  He  was, "  replied  Ernest ;  and  then  returning  her 
smile,  "But  I  did  not  think  that  you  would  dis- 
cover  " 

"No,  no,  of  course  you  didn't,"  she  interrupted; 
"you  intended  to  play  the  Jesuit." 

"  "Well  I  am  glad  that  you  have  seen  through  the 
ruse.     Indeed  I  am  sorry  that  I  adopted  it. " 

"Oh,   it  has  served  you  well,"  said  she  lightly. 
[143] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"You  could  scarcely  have  explained  your  purpose 
when  we  first  met. " 

"No,  I  had  not  the  courage." 

"Oh,  you  are  not  lacking  in  courage.  But  if  I 
attend  the  Mass  and  am  not  impressed  in  the  way  you 
wish — what  then?  " 

"That  will  not  happen,"  he  replied  in  a  tone  of 
conviction. 

"  But  surely  your  prophetic  powers  may  be  at  fault?  " 

"You  can  put  them  to  the  test." 

"Take  up  your  challenge,  as  it  were!  " 

"Exactly." 

Here  the  tea  was  brought  in,  and  while  she  was 
pouring  him  out  a  cup  she  observed,  "You  certainly 
do  not  allow  the  conventions  to  stand  in  your  way, 
M.  de  Keramur? " 

"  Not  when  the  issues  are  momentous, "  he  returned 
gravely. 

"Then  you  think  that  important  consequences  may 
follow  from  our  meeting  to-day?  " 

"I  do,  and  that  is  my  excuse  for  troubling  you. 
You  have  made  me  realise  the  unusualness  of  the  step 
I  have  taken;  but — but  I  cannot  think  that  I  have 
done  wrong,  given  you  cause  for  taking  offence.  No, 
no,  on  the  contrary.  I  mean Ah,  I  cannot  ex- 
plain my  meaning,  Lady  Eva ! " 

"I  quite  understand  you.  You  believe  that  you 
have  been  appointed  to  effect  my  conversion  to  the 
Church  of  Eome,  and  you  seem  to  imply  that  you 
know  a  great  deal  more  about  me  than  I  know  myself. 
You  speak  with  an  air  of  conviction  and  are  evidently 
£144] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


sincere;  at  the  same  time,  M.  de  Keramur,  you  are 
very  impertinent.  No,  no,  I  don't  wish  you  to  think 
that  I  am  dismissing  you.  After  all  it  is  very  kind 
of  you  to  be  interested  in  my  spiritual  welfare — very 
kind,  and,  you  must  pardon  me,  extraordinarily  im- 
pertinent !  Really,  M.  de  Keramur,  it  is  absurd  that 
you  should  be  hurt  when  I  say  this.  Think  for  a 
moment  how  your  conduct  would  appear  to  a  third 
person,  to  my  aunt.  Lady  Caterham,  for  example.  I 
am  not  angry  with  you,  because  I  feel  that  you  come 
to  me  as  a  sort  of  agent  of  your  Church,  so  to  speak, 
that  you  bring  to  me  a  challenge  from  her.  I  will  be 
perfectly  frank  with  you.     Were  I  a  Eomanist  I 

should  applaud  your  action ;  even  as  it  is "    She 

broke  off  and  laughed.  "  Upon  my  word,  you  are  so 
extraordinary  that  I  don't  know  what  to  say !  I  have 
half  a  mind  to  take  up  the  challenge.  But  we  must 
leave  the  subject.  You  have  acquitted  yourself  well 
— very  well ! " 

She  was  quite  exhilarated,  and  at  this  proof  of  his 
ability  to  stir  her  Ernest's  spirits  rose.  He  reminded 
her  of  her  visit  to  St.  Peter's  on  the  occasion  of  his 
first  performance  on  the  new  organ  and  of  her  promise 
to  criticise,  and  offer  suggestions  upon,  the  music  at 
the  church. 

"  I  associate  you  with  St.  Peter's, "  he  went  on ;  and 
to  her  remark  that  she  was  not  a  member  of  the  con- 
gregation he  bade  her  look  ahead.  "  We  want  energy, " 
said  he,  "enthusiasm,  zeal,  new  blood.  You  will  sup- 
ply that ;  you  will  stir  us  up ! " 

"Indeed  yours  is  the  stirring  spirit,"  said  she. 
10  [  145  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Oh,  I  shall  have  done  something,"  said  he;  at 
which  she  smiled.  "The  old  Catholics  are  sleepy; 
we  make  no  headway ;  we  want  a  fiery  propagandist. 
I  said  so  to  Monsignor,  and  he  smiled  and  asked  me 
whether  I  could  find  one.  I  said  that  I  could,  and  we 
shall  see  if  I  was  not  right. " 

"  I  fancy  that  if  I  were  to  become  a  Eomanist  I 
bhould  be  a  tremendous  proselytiser, "  observed  Eva, 

"Of  course  you  would — and  will  be;  that  is  your 
part." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Well,  we  shall  see,"  and  he  ran  on  in  this  strain 
till  at  length  she  remarked  that  he  knew  a  great  deal 
more  about  her  than  she  herself  knew,  whereupon 
their  eyes  met. 

" Rome  knows  how  to  choose  her  instruments! "  she 
exclaimed.  "You  don't  object  to  my  putting  it  in 
that  way?" 

"  Oh,  no,  but  you  must  take  up  my  challenge. " 

"Yes,  I  shall  do  that." 

Here  he  rose  to  take  his  leave.  She  gave  him  her 
hand,  and  allowing  her  eyes  to  rest  upon  him  was 
aware  of  a  look  of  satisfaction,  almost  of  triumph,  in 
his  face  and  a  certain  air  of  masterfulness  in  his  bear- 
ing. Thereupon  a  feeling  of  opposition  awoke  in  her, 
and  when  he  had  taken  his  departure  she  wondered 
at  the  part  she  had  played  in  the  interview.  She  had 
shown  a  lamentable  weakness  and  confirmed  in  him 
the  strange  belief  that  he  was  destined  to  influence 
her  career.  This  led  her  to  consider  the  young  man, 
his  presumption,  his  hauteur,  his  claim  to  foreknow- 
[146] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


ledge,  his  undoubted  insight  into  her  character.  She 
was  almost  inclined  to  accept  his  idea  that  he  was 
commissioned  by  Providence  to  interfere  in  her  affairs ; 
and  when  her  aunt  inquired  about  the  person  with  the 
Breton  name,  who  did  something,  she  had  forgotten 
what,  played  some  musical  instrument,  and  who  had 
remained  an  unconscionable  time,  Eva  assumed  a 
mysterious  air  and  remarked  that  the  young  man  was 
an  extraordinary  person  and  had  said  things  to  her 
that  she  would  not  soon  forget.  Lady  Caterham 
frowned  and  took  her  to  task  for  granting  a  long  tete- 
a-tete  to  a  young  man,  an  organist,  for  she  now  re- 
membered that  that  was  his  business ;  to  which  Eva 
returned  that  she  must  really  be  allowed  to  follow  her 
own  judgement  in  such  matters. 

On  the  following  morning  she  rode  in  the  Park 
upon  the  huge  black  mare  her  cousin  Alec  had  sold 
to  her,  and  espying  Frank  Mortimer  upon  his  neat 
little  cob,  she  cantered  up  to  him  and  told  him  about 
M.  de  Keramur's  visit.  Mortimer  laughed  and 
advised  her  to  fight  shy  of  the  organist,  whom  he 
described,  jestingly,  as  a  good  medium  for  the  trans- 
mission of  Eome's  power. 

"Why  don't  your  people  take  him  up?  "  she  asked. 

"Why  should  theyf  "  he  asked  her  in  return.  "He 
has  his  profession  to  attend  to,  besides  which  he 
doesn't  want  to  be  taken  up.  He's  the  most  exclu- 
sive person.  No  company  would  be  good  enough  for 
him.  Then  he's  too  critical.  He  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  I  was  a  mere  cumberer  of  the  ground.  He 
is  better  left  to  his  organ-pipes. " 
[147] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"You  disappoint  me,  Mr.  Mortimer.  I  should  have 
expected  that  you  and  Sir  Ralph  Vancelour  and  M. 
de  Keramur " 

"Why  do  you  bracket  us  together f  " 

"You  are  all  Catholics  and  should  have  the  same 
object  in  view. " 

"What  object,  may  I  ask!  " 

"The  spread  of  your  religion.*' 

Mortimer  looked  at  her  and  laughed.  "Surely 
that's  the  business  of  the  priests,"  said  he.  "By-the- 
by,  Sir  Ealph  is  a  bit  of  a  proselytiser.  He  converted 
Miss  Anastasia  Forcy-Smith,  and  her  mother  told  me 
that  he  had  made  a  cruel  use  of  his  intellect;  but 
Anastasia  reverted  to  Protestantism  when  she  discov- 
ered that  he  was  interested  only  in  her  spiritual  wel- 
fare. Then  there's  that  dog  Blackie  that  bows  its 
head  when  you  say  *  Pope, '  You  can  scarcely  call 
him  a  convert  though,  for  he's  a  Frenchman.  But  I, 
what  can  I  do  ?  I  gave  you  a  copy  of  my  book  and 
interpreted  it  to  you. " 

" Hegelianism  and  the  Sacramental  System,"  she 
laughed.  "After  reading  it  I  felt  inclined  to  disbe- 
lieve in  the  truth  of  revealed  religion  altogether. 
You  are  too  subtle,  Mr.  Mortimer.    Now  let  us  gallop ! " 

"My  brute  can't  keep  pace  with  yours,"  said  he, 
whereupon  she  nodded  and  bounded  away,  her  groom 
hurrying  after  her. 

"Fool  of  a  woman! "  Mortimer  mentally  exclaimed. 
"If  she  does  join  us  she'll  set  us  all  by  the  ears! 
Confound  that  organ-grinder ! " 


[148] 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

CATHOLIC  SOCIETY  AT  NEWARK  HOUSE 

The  old  Catholic  families  are  notorious  for  their  ex- 
clusiveness.  Till  recent  years  they  were  a  proscribed 
race  and  cut  off  from  the  society  of  their  peers ;  they 
accordingly  intermarried  a  great  deal  and  most  of 
them  are  related  to  one  another.  In  times  of  persecu- 
tion they  were  loyal  to  Eome  at  great  sacrifice  to 
themselves,  but  when  the  persecution  relaxed  some 
became  Protestants,  others  ceased  to  practise  any 
religion,  and  all  of  them  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of  dis- 
content. They  gradually  adjusted  their  minds  to  the 
new  state  of  things,  however,  and  most  of  those  who 
had  become  Protestants  returned  to  their  old  creed. 
The  Tractarian  Movement,  which  led  so  many  dis- 
tinguished men  into  the  Church  of  Eome,  again  dis- 
turbed them.  They  perceived  differences  between 
these  new  people  and  themselves  and  regarded  them 
with  suspicion,  but  in  course  of  time  they  grew  to 
tolerate  their  existence  in  the  Church.  They  have 
now  taken  their  places  in  general  society,  and  are 
gradually  ceasing  to  form  a  class  apart.  They  are 
not  much  interested  in  art,  literature,  or  science ;  they 
are  intolerant  of  new  faces,  new  ideas,  anybody  or 
anything  that  is  new ;  they  regard  with  strong  disap- 
proval the  democratic  tendencies  of  society,  and  strive 
to  uphold  the  traditions  of  a  past  generation. 
[149] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


For  the  most  part  they  are  not  animated  with  the 
proselytising  spirit,  and  though  very  pious  they  rarely 
discuss  the  subject  of  religion.  Frank  Mortimer  had 
almost  lost  caste  among  them  by  publishing  his  book 
Hegelianism  and  the  Sacravientul  System,  though  the 
work  had  received  the  praise  of  competent  critics ; 
but  that  a  man  of  his  lineage  should  waste  his  lime  in 
stringing  words  together  struck  them  as  grotesque.  It 
was  his  business  to  hunt  and  shoot  and  go  into  society, 
which  business  indeed  he  did  not  neglect,  though  it 
failed  to  engross  the  whole  of  his  time.  Of  course 
these  remarks  do  not  apply  to  all  the  members  of  the 
old  Catholic  families,  to  the  Duke  of  Thanet  for  ex- 
ample, who  was  one  of  the  most  admirable  noblemen 
of  his  time ;  and  after  all  much  might  be  said  in  favour 
even  of  the  less  worthy  of  these  Catholic  patricians. 
They  did  not  find  their  way  into  the  divorce  court, 
they  preserved  their  dignity,  and  refi^ained  from  the 
self-advertisement  and  other  vulgar  habits  practised 
by  some  of  the  leading  members  of  society. 

The  relations  between  these  people  and  Cardinal 
Grimsby  were  somewhat  strained  at  the  time  with 
which  this  narrative  deals.  There  was  a  disposition 
on  their  part  to  exalt  Monsignor  Vancelour  into  a  sort 
of  rival  of  the  Cardinal,  to  "  back  up  "  their  man,  to 
indicate  him  to  "  outsiders "  as  the  representative  of 
all  that  was  best  in  the  Church  of  Eome.  Monsignor 
was  a  man  of  peace  and  averse  from  intrigue,  but  he 
was  in  sympathy  with  the  old  Catholics,  and  thought 
that  they  were  unjustly  treated  by  the  Cardinal ;  he 
accordingly  allowed  himself  to  appeal*  as  their  cham- 
[150] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


pion.  The  questions  at  issue  between  him  and  Grimsby 
were  not  of  great  importance ;  he  merely  defended  him- 
self and  his  party  from  the  charge  of  Anglo-Gallican- 
ism  brought  against  them  by  his  Eminence,  and  as- 
serted his  and  their  right  to  their  anti-democratic, 
anti-Home-Eule  views.  The  Cardinal  would  not  of 
course  have  denied  them  a  right  to  the  latter,  but  he 
endeavoured  to  check  their  tendency,  or  what  he  re- 
garded as  their  tendency,  to  form  a  little  party  in  the 
Church  and  to  oppose  himself.  He  thought  that  they 
wanted  "keeping  in  order,''  that  they  were  trouble- 
some children,  inclined  to  be  disobedient,  and  that 
Monsignor  made  things  too  easy  for  them  and  for 
himself.  Father  Macdonald  had  a  difficult  part  to 
play;  he  was,  and  was  known  to  be,  the  Cardinal's 
man,  but  he  had  won  the  respect  of  the  rector  and 
congregation  of  St.  Peter's  and  kept  the  peace  between 
them  and  his  Eminence. 

The  introduction  of  Lady  Newark  to  Catholic  society 
was  the  work  of  Monsignor  Vancelour,  who  had  un- 
dertaken it  at  the  request  of  Father  Macdonald.  He 
represented  her  as  an  amiable,  simple  little  lady  who 
had  married  into  a  noble  family,  who  was  without 
friends,  who  was  oppressed  by  the  greatness  of  her 
position,  and  anxious  to  fulfil  her  responsibilities. 
The  Duke  of  Thanet  responded  at  once  to  this  appeal 
and  brought  his  Duchess  and  the  Ladies  Norbert  to 
Newark  House,  Frank  Mortimer  induced  his  brother 
and  the  other  members  of  his  clan  to  caU,  and  the 
Fitzurses,  the  Talboys,  Mr.  Stock  of  Stock,  the  Misses 
flfennel,  Lady  Glastonbury,  and  others  followed  suit. 
[151] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Newark  was  beholden  to  Mortimer  for  advice 
as  to  how  she  should  comport  herself  in  the  presence 
of  the  Catholic  "swells,"  as  she  called  them  to  her 
friend,  much  to  his  horror.  She  was  to  say  nothing 
and  do  nothing,  he  told  her ;  she  was  to  have  no  opin- 
ions, — he  modified  his  advice, — to  smile,  seem  pleased, 
and  take  everything  for  granted ;  and  she  carried  out 
these  injunctions  and  made  a  fairly  favourable  im- 
pression. Father  Macdonald  fulfilled  the  promise  he 
had  made  her.  He  surrounded  her  with  courtiers  who 
relieved  her  of  her  troublesome  duties  and  helped 
her  in  many  ways,  so  that  she  did  not  miss  Eva's 
capital  business  head ;  made  her  a  patroness  of  vari- 
ous religious  and  charitable  institutions ;  put  her  on 
councils  and  committees ;  set  her  going  as  a  Catholic 
grande  dame.  Curiously  enough  he  showed  more  tact 
in  directing  her  in  the  temporal  than  in  the  spiritual 
sphere.  He  mapped  out  her  time  so  that  she  was  as 
a  rule  occupied  in  the  performance  of  work  which 
seemed  important  but  which  she  found  quite  easy  to 
do ;  with  surprise  and  pleasure  she  discovered  that  by 
merely  being  present  at  an  assembly  and  saying  what 
she  was  told  to  say  she  had  advanced  a  worthy  cause 
or  helped  her  co-religionists.  She  was  very  generous 
with  her  money,  but  considering  her  wealth  it  cannot 
be  said  that  Father  Macdonald  was  extortionate  in  his 
demands  upon  her  purse ;  it  is  indeed  only  fair  to  him 
to  say  that  he  exercised  his  power  over  her  in  a  very 
honourable  manner,  and  that  under  his  influence  she 
was  a  far  more  useful  member  of  society  than  she  had 
been  under  the  influence  of  her  sister-in-law. 
[152] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


But  in  his  spiritual  direction  he  was  not  so  tactful, 
not  so  successful.  He  seemed  to  expect  her  to  become 
what  she  called  a  "piosity,"  and  this  led  her  to  ape  a 
zeal  she  did  not  feel,  to  attend  two  services  when  one 
would  have  satisfied  the  obligation,  to  fast  when  ab- 
stinence was  all  that  was  required  of  a  person  not 
robust.  Father  Macdonald  noted  these  manifestations 
of  a  soaring  soul,  approved,  and  recommended  higher 
flights.  He  knew  that  she  was  fighting  against  her 
inclinations,  but  the  more  severe  the  contest  the  nobler 
the  victory ;  "  Onward,  Christian  soldier ! "  expressed 
his  attitude.  Now  this  was  a  mistake,  for  it  tended 
to  make  her  a  hypocrite  and  in  the  long  run  was  calcu- 
lated to  loosen  his  hold  upon  her.  "  He  expects  too 
much,"  she  complained  to  Mortimer;  "he  is  too  ex- 
acting." And  that  gentleman  noticed  that  Father 
Macdonald' 8  eye  troubled  her  pretty  much  as  Eva's 
eye  had  troubled  her  in  the  past ;  he  bore  in  mind  her 
falsity,  treachery,  spite,  and  thought  it  probable  that 
these  qualities  would  appear  by-and-by  in  her  conduct 
towards  Father  Macdonald. 

Lady  Newark's  reception  was  an  important  event 
in  her  life.  She  had  looked  forward  to  it  with  con- 
siderable anxiety,  for  she  had  never  given  such  an 
entertainment  before.  Her  guests  began  to  arrive  at 
about  half -past  ten  o'clock,  Father  Macdonald  and 
Sir  Balph  Vancelour  coming  first,  and  taking  their 
places  a  little  behind  their  hostess  at  the  head  of  the 
staircase.  They  were  her  sponsors,  so  to  speak,  and 
the  face  of  the  younger  of  them  wore  a  triumphant 
expression,  for  he  was  the  instrument  by  which  Provi- 
[153] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


dence  had  wrought  her  "conversion."  The  priest 
looked  very  sombre  in  the  brilliantly  lighted  hall  and 
in  close  proximity  to  Lady  Newark,  who  had  discarded 
black  for  the  first  time  since  her  husband's  death,  and 
wore  a  toilette  of  white  satin,  her  hair  and  bodice 
glittering  with  gems.  She  was  extremely  nervous  at 
first  and  could  scarcely  get  her  words  out,  her  con- 
fusion being  increased  by  the  band  that  performed  in 
the  pit  of  the  hall ;  but  she  recovered  her  composure 
upon  entering  the  splendid  drawing-room  that  hatl 
been  opened  for  the  occasion. 

This  apartment,  known  as  the  Adams-room,  was 
one  of  the  most  satisfactory  "  domestic  interiors "  in 
the  metropolis.  It  was  oblong  in  form  and,  like  the 
dining-room  over  which  it  stood,  had  a  large  project- 
ing bow  that  looked  out  upon  the  square.  The  ceiling 
was  divided  into  three  compartments,  each  of  which 
enclosed  a  flat  segmental  dome,  the  chief  decorations 
consisting  of  plaques  of  blue  and  white  "Wedgewood 
representing  nymphs  playing  harps  for  the  edification 
of  lambs.  The  walls,  pale  neutral  red  in  colour,  were 
divided  into  panels  which  contained  pictures  by  An- 
gelica Kauffmann.  The  mantelpiece  was  of  white 
marble  supported  by  columns  of  red  porphyry ;  above 
it  was  an  oblong  panel  containing  an  exquisite  carving 
representing  "The  Triumph  of  Aurora";  and  above 
this  and  crowning  the  edifice  was  a  superb  picture  by 
Titian,  "The  Adoration  of  the  Magi."  Delicate  in- 
laid cabinets,  filled  with  old  china,  lined  the  walls. 
The  furniture  was  by  Chippendale. 

Most  of  the  men  and  women  present  had  the  well- 
[154] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


known  air,  tlie  amiable,  meaningless  smile,  the  studied 
politeness,  the  formal  kindness  of  speech  and  manner, 
the  apparent  ease  and  frankness,  the  genuine  re8er^'e 
and  self-control  that  characterise  the  best  bred  English 
Ijeople ;  but  a  few  stood  out  from  the  others  and  ex- 
hibited signs  of  marked  personality.  Thus  the  Duke 
of  Thanet  showed  a  simplicity  and  good  humour  which 
were  not  in  the  least  affected  and  which  relaxed  the 
stiffness  of  his  companions;  he  amused  his  hostess 
by  telling  her  a  little  joke  about  a  donkey  and  an 
apple-cart  and  promised  to  show  her  a  photograph  of 
himself  and  his  Duchess  dressed  up  as  a  costermonger 
and  his  lady.  "See  how  nice  and  simple  your  duke 
is  after  all ! "  mentally  exclaimed  young  Mortimer, 
who  was  by  way  of  satirising  "his  people."  Lady 
Purley  was  another  prominent  person,  a  beautiful, 
languishing,  dark-eyed  widow  of  five-and-forty,  a  con- 
vert to  Eome,  extremely  charitable,  fond  of  art,  very 
demonstrative  in  manner.  She  embraced  her  hostess 
and  spoke  of  the  great  happiness  that  had  been  vouch- 
safed herself  since  she  had  joined  the  Church.  "Ex- 
actly," was  Mortimer's  inward  comment.  "You  rep- 
resent a  type.  You  were  gay  once  and  sought  all  the 
experiences  that  the  world  offers  and  then  became  a 
devotee  and  are  now  enjoying  your  repentance."  The 
Pitzurses  were  a  numerous  clan  noticeable  for  their 
lofty  stature  and  exquisite  complexions — "and  not 
much  else,"  Mortimer  would  have  added.  "Behold 
these  great  strapping  fellows  with  complexions  like 
girls !  One  of  them  may  aspire  to  be  a  groom-in-wait- 
ing on  account  of  his  looks,  but  if  he  misses  that  office 
[155] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


he  will  be  content  to  devote  his  life  to  cricket  and  to 
sport."  Taller  by  several  inches  than  these  young 
men  and  thin  as  a  lath  stood  Simon  Stock  of  Stock, 
the  last  of  an  ancient  raee,  near-sighted,  hard  of  hear- 
ing, with  a  halt  in  his  gait  and  an  impediment  in  his 
speech.  Mortimer  bent  his  head  reverently  on  catch- 
ing sight  of  this  old  man,  the  sole  survivor  of  a  dig- 
nified and  honourable  family.  The  history  of  the 
Stocks  of  Stock  was  a  record  of  persecutions  and  mis- 
fortunes bravely  borne,  of  unswerving  loyalty  to  their 
Church  and  legitimate  sovereign  at  the  sacrifice  of  life, 
estates,  and  means  of  livelihood.  Their  present  and 
last  representative  was  very  poor  and  looked  as  though 
he  had  passed  through  stormy  experiences,  though  in 
truth  his  life  had  been  placid  and  uneventful  enough ; 
his  face  was  wrinkled  and  scarred,  his  members  were 
barely  able  to  perform  their  functions,  and  his  mind 
was  occasionally  unhinged,  so  that  he  was  shadowed 
by  a  keeper.  But  there  was  a  dignity  and  charm 
about  the  old  man  that  were  very  touching.  Father 
Macdonald  led  him  up  to  the  hostess,  and  he  bent  over 
her  and  tried  but  failed  to  speak,  whereupon  he  laid 
his  hand  gently  upon  her  shoulder.  The  priest  then 
led  him  away  and  helped  him  to  a  seat.  The  Misses 
ffennel  then  came  forward:  sisters  of  an  uncertain 
age,  tall,  thin,  lantern-jawed,  dressed  very  shabbily  in 
black;  very  rude,  very  pious,  very  fond  of  scandal. 
Their  favourite  pastime  was  priest-badgering;  they 
were  always  threatening  Monsignor  and  Father  Mac- 
donald to  quit  St.  Peter's  and  worship  in  another 
Catholic  Church  unless  certain  alterations  were  made 
[166] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


in  the  conduct  of  the  services,  in  the  music,  in  the 
decoration  of  the  altars,  but  no  notice  was  taken  of 
their  threats.  Father  Jones,  the  third  priest  at  St. 
Peter's,  to  whom  they  had  of  late  carried  their  com- 
plaints, declared  that  he  would  sooner  hear  the  con- 
fession of  a  shipful  of  Jack-tars  than  endure  five 
minutes'  conversation  with  either  of  these  pious  ladies. 
They  regarded  their  hostess  with  a  close  scrutiny  that 
lasted  several  seconds,  and  then  expressed  the  hope 
that  she  was  duly  thankful  for  the  gift  of  faith  that 
had  been  vouchsafed  her,  the  impertinence  of  the  re- 
mark being  emphasised  by  the  sharp  tone  in  which  it 
was  uttered.  And  then  room  was  made  for  the  famous 
Lady  Glastonbury,  a  venerable  old  ruin  much  spoilt 
by  restoration,  the  most  pious  and  most  worldly  woman 
of  her  time,  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  but  still  grace- 
ful in  her  movements  and  gracious  and  charming  in 
manner.  She  made  her  hostess  a  neat  little  speech  in 
a  thin  girlish  voice  and  performed  a  curtsey  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  her  granddaughter.  Lady  Cater- 
ham  and  Eva  came  late.  Monsignor  Vancelour  was 
away  in  Rome. 

The  room  was  at  no  time  crowded,  there  was  an 
absence  of  heat  and  din;  it  was  a  quiet,  perhaps  a 
dull,  but  certainly  a  distinctive  gathering.  With  few 
exceptions  "  the  cousins  "  knew  how  to  behave  them- 
selves ;  the  silly  affectations  and  tricks  of  speech,  the 
painful  attempts  at  epigram  and  paradox,  the  "smart- 
ness "  of  the  refined-vulgar  would  have  met  with  a 
chilling  reception  from  these  people.  They  spoke 
naturally  and  frankly,  or  with  apparent  frankness, 
[167] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


upon  the  subjects  that  interested  them,  chiefly  sport 
and  society,  and  for  all  his  satirical  asides  Mortimer 
was  really  proud  of  them,  and  had  reason  to  be. 

His  brother  Lord  Mortimer,  an  upright,  pompous 
man,  looked  anxious  and  worried ;  he  was  conversing 
in  an  undertone  with  the  Duke  of  Thanet.  "Why 
has  Father  John  [Monsignor  Vancelour]  been  sum- 
moned to  Eome?  Has  his  book,  '  Catholicism:  the 
Religion  of  the  Heart, '  been  placed  upon  the  Index  ?  " 

The  Duke  answered  the  latter  question  in  the  nega- 
tive, and  tried  to  allay  the  anxiety  of  his  interlocutor. 

"If  Father  John  goes ,"  began  Lord  Mortimer. 

"  Oh,  but  he  will  not  go, "  interrupted  the  Duke. 
"But  we  must  be  judicious,"  he  went  on  seriously. 
"  I  really  think  that  we  are  a  little  to  blame ;  we  are 
apt  to  stand  aloof  from  his  Eminence,  and  our  atti- 
tude is  misinterpreted  by  the  enemies  of  the  Church. 
We  may  not  approve  Cardinal  Grimsby's  recent  ac- 
tions  " 

"I  should  think  not!"  cried  the  other.  "This 
crusade " 

"  Well,  well, "  soothed  his  Grace ;  "  Cardinal  Grimsby 
may  have  been  led  away  by  his  sympathy  with  the 
social  purity  people,  but  Rome  is  not  alarmed  and  I 
don't  think  that  we  need  be.  As  for  this  Home-Eule 
business — that's  always  with  us.     God's  poor " 

"Are  only  of  one  nationality,"  put  in  Lord  Mor- 
timer. 

"Sh!  Sh!"  cried  the  Duke  in  mock  alarm.  "How 
I  wish  that  Father  John  could  win  the  approval  of  the 
poor  Irish!  But  they  won't  have  him  at  any  price. 
[158] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


His  mission  at  Clerkenwell  was  an  utter  failure. 
Father  O'Leaiy  declared  in  my  presence  that  he  was 
little  better  than  a  Protestant.  I  persuaded  Monsignor 
to  put  Father  Murphy  in  the  pulpit  at  St.  Peter's  one 
Sunday  last  month,  but  he  didn't  please,  I  am  sorry 
to  say.  He  harangued  us  for  over  an  hour  on  the  sin 
of  spending  our  weekly  wages  in  the  public  house  and 
buying  our  loins  of  pork  on  the  Sunday  mornings.  I 
thought  that  Lady  Glastonbury  would  faint ! " 

"Why  doesn't  Father  John  sue  the  publishers  of 
that  ribald  print,  The  Anti-Papist,  for  libel  ? "  asked 
Lord  Mortimer,  who  had  no  taste  for  his  Grace's  little 
jokes.  "It  is  propagating  the  most  grotesque  lies 
about  us. " 

"The  matter  is  in  his  Eminence's  hands,"  said  the 
Duke.  "He  will  strike  at  the  right  time  and  strike 
hard.     You  can  depend  upon  him  for  that." 

No  such  conversation  as  this  reached  Eva's  ears. 
She  heard  nothing  but  conventional  speech,  and  it 
astonished  her  that  these  Catholics  were  so  much  like 
other  people.  Many  of  them  were  acquaintances  of 
hers  and  hitherto  they  had  not  affected  her  with  a 
sense  of  their  shortcomings;  but  she  now  demanded 
of  them  some  striking  singularity.  The  mark  of  the 
beast,  signs  of  unusual  sanctity,  were  not,  however, 
discernible  in  these  Fitzurses,  Talboys,  Norberts;  so 
far  as  her  observation  went  they  were  indistinguish- 
able from  other  well-bred  people.  They  did  not  look 
askance  at  her  as  an  "outsider,"  as  she  had  almost 
hoped  they  would,  nor  attempt  to  convert  her ;  they 
merely  uttered  commonplaces.  One  of  them,  Reggie 
[159] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Fitzurse,  was  singled  out  for  admiration  and  wore  the 
air  of  a  man  who  had  achieved  great  things  because 
forsooth  he  had  made  a  hundred  runs  in  a  cricket 
match! 

"You  are  disappointed  with  us?  "  asked  Mortimer. 

"  Yes,  very  much, "  she  replied.  "  One  of  you  is  a 
great  cricketer.  Lady  Glastonbury  attended  sixteen 
receptions  last  week." 

"  Another  has  written  a  work  upon  the  Foundations 
of  the  Faith,"  said  he,  referring  to  himself.  "The 
Duke  of  Thanet  has  had  himself  photographed  as  a 
costermonger.     You  are  too  exacting. " 

"  No^  M.  de  Keramur " 

"  Calls  upon  ladies  to  whom  he  has  not  been  pre- 
sented and  bids  them  forthwith  change  their  creed. 
Would  you  have  us  all  behave  in  that  fashion!  " 

"I  should  respect  you  more  if  you  did,"  said  she 
with  a  smile. 

Here  Miss  (The  Hon.  Ethel)  Fitzurse  approached 
her  and  observed  that  she  had  caught  a  glimi)se  of 
her  in  the  enclosure  at  Ascot. 

"Yes,  I  was  there,"  said  Eva,  and  then  she  changed 
the  subject  abruptly.  "There  is  a  very  clever  organ- 
ist at  St.  Peter's  Church,  is  there  not?  " 

"Is  there?  Yes,  I  think  the  organ  plays  very  well 
there. " 

"No,  it  plays  too  loud,"  corrected  her  younger 
sister,  Miss  Anne  Fitzurse. 

"  I  thought  you  might  know  the  organist, "  observed 
Eva. 

Miss  Anne  Fitzurse  regarded  her  with  mild  astonish- 
[160] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ment.  Know  the  organ!  But  the  next  moment  it 
dawned  upon  her  that  the  thing  didn't  play  itself,  and 
she  considered  what  sort  of  animal  your  organist  might 
be.  A  noisy  sort,  she  concluded.  "  I  am  not  musical, " 
said  she. 

"I  am,"  Eva  heard  in  a  stage  whisper,  and  turning 
beheld  Lady  Purley,  the  beautiful  deep -eyed  dame 
who,  according  to  Mortimer,  had  been  gay  in  her 
youth  and  was  now  enjoying  her  repentance.  "When 
the  organ  is  played  softly,"  pursued  her  Ladyship,  "I 
seem  to  hear  the  angels  singing,  singing  to  me,  en- 
couraging me,  cheering  me  on  my  journey  through 
this  vale  of  tears.  And  when  it  is  played  loud, "  and 
she  described  two  large  semicircles  with  her  beautiful 
hands,  "  I  seem  to  hear  the  great  chorus  of  heaven  and 
long  to  uplift  my  voice  and  join  in  the  glorious  chant. 
Yes?    You  were  saying  .  .  ,  t" 

"I  only  asked  Miss  Fitzurse  if  she  knew  the  organ- 
ist.    Do  you!" 

"No,  but  I  have  seen  him  often,  I  have  seen  him 
after  Mass,  after  he  has  been  playing  some  great 
throbbing  piece,  some  heart- piercing  composition, 
and  have  noticed  that  his  thoughts  are  far  away,  that 
he  has  quitted  earth. "  And  the  lady  smiled,  showing 
both  rows  of  her  teeth,  and  nodded.  Upon  resuming 
her  conversation  with  Eva  she  spoke  of  the  rapture 
of  the  inspired  musician,  and  it  subsequently  appeared 
that  she  herself  was  that  interesting  person. 

Hitherto  there  had  been  no  fault  to  find  with  the 
hostess's  manner,  but  Mortimer  observed  that  her  eye 
frequently  wandered  in  the  direction  of  Father  Mac- 
11  [  161  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


donald,  and  he  was  not  surprised  when  she  whispered 
to  him,  "I  wish  he'd  go,"  referring  to  the  priest. 
"These  people  are  very  simple  and  easy  to  get  on 
with,  but  they  want  warming  up  a  bit ! " 

"For  God's  sake  be  careful! "  whispered  Mortimer. 

"Pooh!"  said  she.  "I  want  my  guests  to  enjoy 
themselves.  Perhaps  the  supper  will  put  some  life 
into  them." 

Her  wish  was  soon  gratified.  Father  Macdonald 
quitted  the  house  before  the  company  filed  into  the 
dining-room.  Lady  Caterham  and  Eva  followed  in  his 
wake,  and  thereupon  a  change  came  over  the  hostess's 
manner.  It  was  not  perhaps  very  noticeable,  except 
to  Mortimer,  until  after  supper,  but  when  she  returned 
to  the  Adams-room  it  could  no  longer  escape  observa- 
tion. Flushed  by  success  and  animated  with  the  de- 
sire of  amusing  her  guests,  she  exhibited  a  liveliness 
that  was  infinitely  distressing.  "Is  there  no  one  who 
can  entertain  us?"  she  asked  aloud.  "We're  tired 
of  that  band ;  I  have  asked  them  to  stop.  "We  must 
vary  the  proceedings."  And  then  she  proposed 
musical  chairs,  which  was  received  in  silence,  cha- 
rades, forfeits ;  exclaimed,  "  Well  we  must  do  some- 
thing"; indicated  Lord  Dartmoor,  the  head  of  the 
Fitzurse  family,  and  said,  "  You  make  a  suggestion. " 

It  was  not  a  lack  of  good  nature  nor  of  good  breed- 
ing but  sheer  astonishment  that  kept  her  guests  silent 
and  made  them  stare  at  her  as  at  some  strange  phe- 
nomenon. The  Duke  of  Thanet,  however,  kind  and 
tactful  as  he  always  was,  pretended  to  see  nothing 
unusual  in  her  demeanour  and  tried  to  induce  his 
[162] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


companions  to  divert  themselves  in  one  of  the  ways 
she  had  suggested.  Unfortunately  she  was  slow  in 
perceiving  the  impression  she  was  making,  and  con- 
tinued with  her  ghastly  merriment ;  rallied  her  com- 
panions on  their  lack  of  spirit,  and  took  infinite  pains 
"to  make  the  evening  a  success." 

When  they  had  recovered  from  their  astonishment 
many  of  her  guests  pretended  to  fall  in  with  her  hu- 
mour, smiled  with  effort  at  her  pleasantries,  and  tried 
to  be  responsive.  Mortimer  suffered  agonies,  but 
made  the  best  of  the  situation,  whispering,  "Wonder- 
ful gift  of  humour ! "  "  Most  original  person ! "  "  Full 
of  ideas ! "  and  related  anecdotes  in  her  favour,  which 
he  invented  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  But  the 
party  broke  up  early,  and  this  circumstance  awoke 
the  hostess  to  a  sense  of  her  mistaken  behaviour. 

"You  are  going  to  tell  me  that  I  made  a  fool  of 
myself,"  she  said  to  Mortimer,  when  all  her  other 
guests  had  departed.  "Well,  you  think  it  and  the 
others  thought  it,"  she  continued  irritably.  "But  if 
they're  not  contented  with  me  they  needn't  come  here 
again.  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  make  friends  among 
such  a  parcel  of  sticks !  The  priests  seem  to  think  it 
their  business  to  choose  my  friends  for  me. " 

"They  have  introduced  you  to  the  best  families," 
said  Mortimer  with  hauteur.  "  I  am  sorry  that  you 
are  dissatisfied  with  their  manners.  You  need  not 
fear  that  they  will  thrust  themselves  upon  you." 

"Why  did  they  stare  at  me  when  I  proposed  a 
game?    Why  did  they  go  away  so  quickly  1 " 

Mortimer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
[163] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"I  suppose  these  people — you,  I  might  say,  for  you 
are  one  of  them — think  it  mighty  condescending  to 
come  here  at  all. " 

"They  meant  to  be  kind,  I  didn't  notice  that  they 
were  in  a  hurry  to  get  away.  You  have  no  reason  to 
be  angry  with  them. " 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I  think  it  very  rude  of 
them  not  to  have  taken  up  my  suggestions.  Why 
shouldn't  they  have  played  musical  chairs?  There  is 
no  harm  in  the  game." 

"No,  but  it  is  not  usual  to  play  it  at  receptions. 
You  were  not  giving  a  tea-party  to  a  parcel  of  school- 
girls. " 

"When  people  come  to  my  house  I  expect  them  to 
be  civil  to  me. " 

Aware  that  he  was  losing  his  temper,  Mortimer  rose 
to  take  his  leave,  but  she  asked  him  to  resume  his  seat, 
and  he  did  so,  upon  which  she  began  to  rail  against 
Father  Macdonald,  who  was  a  good  man,  a  holy  man, 
she  went  on  to  say,  but  who  expected  her  to  be  a 
"piosity."  "And  that's  too  ridiculous!"  she  con- 
cluded. 


[IW] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  CATHOLIC  DRAMA 

Whether  the  Mass  is  a  picturesque  survival  of 
medifievalism,  the  central  rite  of  Christendom,  or  a 
detestable  superstition,  is  a  question  which  does  not 
concern  us  here.  The  Mass  is  not  a  form  of  prayer, 
but  an  act  of  an  awful  and  overwhelming  nature,  ac- 
cording to  the  Catholic  belief,  and  it  appeals  to  that 
widespread  desire  of  humanity,  not  only  for  worship, 
but  for  worship  in  the  form  of  drama.  In  challenging 
Eva  to  be  present  at  the  Mass  in  St.  Peter's  Church, 
where  of  all  churches  in  the  metropolis  it  was  rendered 
with  the  greatest  effect,  Keramur  bore  this  fact  in 
mind ;  if  he  read  her  aright  the  great  religious  drama 
would  operate  upon  her  feelings  and  draw  her  into 
the  Church  of  Eome. 

She  acquainted  Prank  Mortimer  with  the  organist's 
idea:  "He  has  challenged  me  to  be  present  at  the 
Mass,"  she  said. 

"Why  do  you  submit  to  his  impertinence!  "  asked 
her  interlocutor;  to  which  she  returned,  "You  have 
frequently  called  my  attention  to  the  twentieth  chapter 
of  your  *  Hegelianimi  and  the  Sacramental  System. '  " 

"You  might  read  it  again  before  going  to  the  Mass," 
observed  the  author.  "It  has  been  praised  by  inde- 
pendent critics." 

[165] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  cannot  understand  a  word 
of  it." 

"Then  you  had  better  not  go  to  the  Mass.  If  you 
are  carried  away  by  your  emotions " 

"  But  a  drama  is  intended  to  appeal  to  the  emotions, " 
she  interrupted  him,  and  they  argued  for  a  while,  both 
parties  losing  their  temper  a  little.  There  was  some 
excuse  for  Mortimer,  for  when  he  grew  earnest  and 
launched  into  metaphysics  the  lady  regarded  him  with 
a  bored  smile. 

"You  could  easily  follow  me  if  you  tried,"  said  he, 
in  a  pet. 

"I  am  so  sorry,  Mr.  Mortimer,"  said  she,  "but 
somehow — I  hardly  like  to  say  it — youi-  arguments 
seem  to  tell  against  religion  altogether." 

"They  support  it  by  philosophy." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  think  so — please  pardon  me — 
but  if  you  really  wish  people  to  join  your  church  I 
shouldn't  argue  with  them  if  I  were  you.  I  am  sure 
that  you  know  an  immense  deal  about  theology,  but 
you  don't  make  the  subject  attractive.  Now  I  hope 
that  you  are  not  offended  with  me.  You  know  how  I 
believe  in  your  judgment  on  other  matters — on  furni- 
ture for  example. " 

Mortimer  often  had  to  listen  to  speeches  of  this 
kind  from  her,  and  on  this  occasion  as  usual  she  finished 
their  colloquy  by  saying,  "And  religion  isn't  a  ques- 
tion to  discuss  in  a  drawing-room,  is  it?  "  which  wa« 
unfair,  seeing  that  she  had  introduced  it,  as  she 
always  did,  herself. 

Later  in  the  day  Mortimer  called  upon  an  old  lady 
[166] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


well  known  in  the  literary  world,  who  entertained  very 
harsh  views  of  her  own  sex,  and  who  liked  clever 
young  gentlemen  to  dance  attendance  upon  her.  She 
asked  him  about  his  friend,  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower,  and 
he  told  her  of  Keramur's  challenge  to  the  girl.  The 
old  crone,  who  was  a  pronounced  Agnostic,  ap- 
plauded the  action  of  the  organist,  and  went  on  to 
deliver  her  opinion  of  the  Church  of  Eome.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  the  church,  the  logical  church,  to  which 
you  say  you  belong,  will  endure,"  said  she.  "I  have 
known  women,  ay,  and  men  too,  who  ought  to  be,  who 
must  be  Catholics,  just  as  you  and  I  ought  to  be,  must, 
be  Agnostics ! " 

Mortimer  inwardly  cursed  the  speaker  for  an  old 
hag  and  took  a  hasty  departure ;  but  on  the  following 
Sunday  morning  when  he  was  present  at  the  Mass, 
engaged  in  watching  Eva,  the  words  of  his  literary 
friend  returned  to  him,  and  he  wondered  whether  Eva 
Fitzgower  was  a  woman  who  ought  to  be,  who  must 
be  a  Catholic. 

He  arrived  at  St.  Peter's  a  quarter  of  an  hour  be- 
fore the  Mass  began,  and  a  few  minutes  later  saw  Eva 
enter  the  church  with  a  proud  step,  her  head  erect  and 
a  look  almost  of  defiance  in  her  brilliant  eyes.  She 
parted  with  her  maid  under  the  organ  gallery,  marched 
up  the  nave,  and  without  genuflecting  took  a  seat  in 
the  front  bench,  one  of  the  seats  which  were  owned  by 
the  Duke  of  Thanet  and  which  she  might  therefore 
have  to  vacate.  It  chanced,  however,  that  his  Grace 
brought  only  one  daughter  with  him,  Lady  Mary 
Norbert,  and  Eva  was  left  in  possession  of  her  place, 
[167] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Mary  being  on  her  right  hand  and  Mr.  Stock  of 
Stock  on  her  left.  Her  face  was  visible  to  Mortimer, 
and  he  watched  it  critically  throughout  the  ceremony, 
trying  to  divine  what  was  passing  in  her  mind. 

The  church  filled  rapidly,  and  Mortimer  perceived 
that  the  congregation  would  be  a  representative  one : 
a  grave-looking,  dignified  set  of  people,  devout  but 
not  demonstrative,  thoroughly  English.  Meanwhile 
the  organist  was  playing  upon  the  diapasons  of  the 
organ  a  slow  "  massive  "  composition  with  little  colour, 
a  prelude,  probably  an  extemporisation.  Father 
Macdonald  was  the  celebrant.  Father  Jones  and  a 
priest  from  a  neighbouring  church  were  the  deacon 
and  subdeacon;  Monsignor  Vancelour,  who  had  re- 
turned from  Eome  sooner  than  had  been  expected, 
was  to  preach. 

Curiosity  would  seem  to  have  been  the  emotion  that 
possessed  Eva  at  the  beginning  of  the  ceremony.  Her 
eyes  now  watched  the  movements  of  Father  Macdonald 
and  the  other  priests,  and  now  dropped  to  her  book 
that  enabled  her  to  follow  the  dialogue  between  the 
clergy  and  the  choir,  who  represented  the  people. 
Her  interest  in  the  scene  differed  little  from  that  she 
felt  when  witnessing  the  opening  of  a  secular  drama ; 
but  when  the  choir  began  the  Kyrie  and  the  clergy 
remained  standing  and  there  was  a  pause  in  the  action, 
her  senses  were  touched  by  the  music  of  Beethoven's 
setting  to  the  prayer  for  mercy.  She  repeated  the 
words  as  the  choir  sang  them,  and  was  soothed  by  the 
exquisitely  melodious  phrases.  The  first  chord  of  the 
Gloria  startled  her,  and  she  tried  to  recover  herself, 
[168] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


to  keep  her  forces  well  in  hand,  to  remain  cool ;  but 
the  magnificent  strenuous  music  wrought  upon  her 
nerves,  the  muscles  of  her  face  worked,  and  she  glanced 
with  excitement  at  Father  Macdonald,  the  man  who 
was  about  to  perform  the  stupendous  miracle,  to  call 
down  upon  the  altar  the  Saviour  of  mankind !  Mean- 
while the  modest  girl  at  her  side  sat  with  her  little 
gloved  hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  engaged  in  prayer. 

In  his  sermon  Monsignor  Vancelour  dealt  with  the 
Eucharist,  with  the  spiritual  hunger  of  man,  and  with 
the  'divine  food  that  alone  would  satisfy  it.  The 
miracle  was  taken  for  granted ;  he  simply  described  it 
as  a  fact.  It  was  upon  the  hunger  of  the  soul  that  he 
dilated :  a  subject  of  perennial  interest,  a  matter  of 
universal  experience,  a  fact  no  more  to  be  disputed 
than  bodily  hunger.  The  hunger  of  the  soul !  Man's 
need  of  the  supernatural !  He  alluded  to  the  writers, 
great  writers,  great  thinkers,  who  have  tried  to  satisfy 
the  spiritual  craving  of  humanity  with  the  things  of 
earth,  mundane  ideals,  and  showed  how  signally  they 
have  failed,  and  he  wound  up  this  portion  of  his  dis- 
course with  a  quotation  from  one  of  Professor  Crew- 
kerne's  works  which  served  the  purpose  of  his  argu- 
ment as  well  as  a  quotation  from  a  great  orthodox 
theologian  could  have  done.  He  then  set  to  work 
sharpening  this  hunger,  making  the  souls  of  his  hear- 
ers ache  with  longing.  Mortimer  watched  the  effect 
of  this  upon  Eva,  whose  expression  of  longing  was 
almost  painful  to  behold.  "  Yes,  that  old  crone  was 
right;  Eva  is  a  woman  who  must  be  a  Catholic," 
he  thought.  An  external  object  of  devotion  was 
[169] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


necessary  to  her  and  she  mnst  be  intimate  with  it, 
apprehend  it  with  her  senses ;  but  surely  she  dared  not 
presume  even  to  conceive  the  idea  that  the  eternal  God 
would  deign  to  put  Himself  in  personal  contact  with 
her!  Such  a  conjunction,  nay  a  union,  nay  something 
closer  than  a  union  between  the  creature  and  its  Maker 
was  brought  about  by  the  sacrament  of  the  Eucharist, 
according  to  the  preacher.  The  body  of  Christ  was 
eaten  by  the  communicant,  and  that  was  the  food 
ordained  by  God  to  appease  the  hunger  of  which  he 
had  spoken,  and  that  did  appease  it ! 

The  great  act  was  again  delayed,  now  by  the  Credo, 
the  first  words  of  which  were  intoned  by  the  celebrant 
and  the  whole  of  which  was  afterwards  sung  by  the 
choir  to  the  music  of  Beethoven.  The  movement,  or 
rather  movements — for  there  are  four  of  them — of  the 
Credo  in  Beethoven's  mass  in  C  are  extremely  emo- 
tional. The  voices  begin  quietly  in  unison  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  tremolo  violins,  and  then  spread  into 
loud  massive  chords,  the  quick  movement  of  the 
orchestra  urging  them  to  excitement.  The  words 
Deum  de  Deo  are  declaimed  by  the  tenors,  the  words 
lumen  de  lumine  by  the  altos,  and  then  the  trebles  and 
afterwards  the  basses  repeat  them.  The  whole  chorus 
then  shout  Deum  verum  de  Deo  vera  in  unison,  giving 
an  impression  of  tremendous  energy.  At  the  Qui 
propternos  homines  the  music  becomes  soft  and  solemn. 
The  words  Et  incamatus  est  are  sung  by  a  quartet  very 
slowly  in  an  exquisitely  melodious  phrase ;  the  tenor 
soloist  sings  the  words  Et  homo  foetus  est ;  and  then 
the  character  of  the  music  changes  as  the  bases  pro- 
[170] 


THE  CtATHOLIC 


claim  Crucifixus  etiampro  nobis.  Thenceforth  till  the 
end  of  the  movement  the  music  expresses  mystery  and 
awe.  The  baritone  soloist  sings  Ut  remrrexit  in  a 
cheerful,  almost  jocose  strain,  and  then  starts  the  most 
exciting  portion  of  the  whole  Mass.  The  choir  imitate 
the  melody  just  heard,  after  which  the  trebles  ascend 
the  scale  to  the  top  A ;  then  comes  a  chord  upon  the 
dominant ;  and  then  the  voices  shout  sedet  ad  dexteram 
Fatria  on  the  note  of  C,  breaking  out  into  harmony  and, 
with  the  instruments,  prolonging  the  chord  for  several 
bars.  This  is  so  grand  a  climax  that  the  hearer  feels 
that  the  movement  must  needs  decline  in  energy ;  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  it  increases  in  energy.  On  an 
orchestral  figure  of  triplets  the  voices  rise,  singing  Et 
iteram  venturus  est  cum  gloria  ;  stop  short,  the  orchestra 
rushing  madly  to  and  fro  in  triplets ;  again  proclaim 
the  words  cum  gloria;  wait  for  a  blast  from  the 
trumpets,  then  shout  judicare  in  unison;  then  wait 
for  another  blast  from  the  trumpets,  and  then  accom- 
panied by  the  full  orchestra  burst  into  harmony  on  a 
terrific  chord,  singing  yet  again  the  word  judicare. 
At  this  point  Ernest  brought  on  the  full  power  of  the 
organ.  In  view  of  the  size  of  the  instrument  and  the 
acoustic  properties  of  the  building,  this  may  have  been 
an  artistic  error,  but  the  effect  was  extraordinarily 
sensational.  The  thunder  of  the  huge  pedal  pipes, 
the  fierce  roar  of  the  '  Great '  reeds,  the  shriek  of  the 
mixtures,  the  gigantic  volume  of  sound  thrilled  the 
hearer  and  thrust  upon  him  a  sense  of  the  portent- 
ous nature  of  the  prophecy:  Et  iterum  venturus  est 
cwm  gloria,  judicare  vivos  et  mortuos.  And  He  shall 
[171] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


come  again  with  glory  to  judge  the  living  and  the 
dead! 

A  pallor  overspread  Eva's  beautiful  face,  and  the 
dancing  light  of  excitement  was  visible  under  the  long 
lashes  of  her  half-closed  eyes.  Mortimer  perceived 
how  strongly  the  music  was  affecting  her,  and  though 
not  very  musical  himself  he  was  forced  to  pay  a  tribute 
to  the  power  of  sound. 

UlK)n  rising  from  his  seat  after  the  Credo  Father 
Macdonald  performed  a  number  of  acts ;  lifted  up  the 
bread  that  had  been  presented  to  him  and  offered  it 
to  God  with  a  prayer ;  took  the  chalice  to  the  middle 
of  the  altar  and  offered  up  the  wine;  prayed  that 
the  sacrifice  might  be  acceptable  to  God ;  blessed  the 
incense;  incensed  the  bread  and  the  wine,  uttering 
prayers ;  washed  and  wiped  the  tips  of  his  fingers ; 
kissed  the  altar,  called  on  the  people  to  pray  with 
him,  and  so  forth. 

Upon  recovering,  or  partially  recovering,  from  the 
excitement  produced  in  her  by  the  music,  Eva  deter- 
mined to  suspend  her  judgement  upon  the  genuineness 
of  the  miracle  about  to  be  performed  till  the  time  of 
its  occurrence,  and  to  give  all  her  attention  to  the 
action  that  led  up  to  it.  She  would  not  anticipate,  she 
would  allow  the  argument  to  unfold  itself,  she  would 
maintain  the  attitude  she  had  assumed  from  the  first, 
an  attitude  she  would  have  adopted  if  witnessing  a 
secular  drama.  The  acts,  gestures,  and  prayers,  some 
of  which  have  been  tabulated,  struck  her  as  appropri- 
ate and  well -planned ;  she  followed  them  intelligently 
and  gathered  something  of  their  symbolism ;  the  drama 
[172] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


in  short  was  so  far  a  good  drama  and  well  acted.  The 
mise  en  scdne,  too,  was  excellent;  she  realised  that 
there  was  "meaning,"  "suggestion  "  even  in  the  furni- 
ture of  the  sanctuary.  She  realised,  moreover,  that  all 
the  art  of  the  church, — the  sculpture,  the  painting,  the 
music,  — was  employed  to  give  solemnity  and  beauty 
to  the  Mass ;  that  all  the  emotions  of  the  worshippers 
gathered  round  this  great  central  act;  that  all  the 
hopes  and  longings  of  Catholicism  proceeded  from  it. 
She  realised  this,  she  approved  it,  and  an  anticipation 
gradually  formed  itself  within  her  that  at  the  supreme 
moment  a  sign  would  be  vouchsafed  her,  a  sign  that 
would  prove  to  her  that  a  miracle  was  indeed  taking 
place.  There  are  many  instances  of  such  a  sign  hav- 
ing been  granted  to  individuals  in  the  history  of  the 
Church ;  and  if  it  had  been  granted  to  others  why 
should  it  not  be  granted  to  herself?  Anticipation  of 
this  sign  possessed  her  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
thought  when  the  bell  rang  at  the  Sanctus,  and  then 
a  trifling  circumstance  changed  the  anticipation  into 
a  demand.  Her  companion,  Lady  Mary  Norbert, 
gentlest  and  sweetest  of  convent-bred  girls,  uttered 
what  can  scarcely  be  called  an  ejaculation,  for  it  wa« 
80  soft  that  it  probably  reached  no  one  except  Eva,  a 
sigh,  call  it,  a  sigh  wherein  belief  and  love  were  ex- 
pressed more  eloquently  tlian  they  could  have  been 
expressed  in  any  form  of  words. 

No  "sign"  was  necessary  to  compel  faith  in  this 
modest  little  lady.     Then,  why  had  not  such  easy  be- 
lief been  granted  to  herself?  was  Eva's  inward  ques- 
tion, and  therewith  she  demanded  a  proof,  not  necee- 
[173] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


sary  in  her  companion's  case  but  necessary  in  her  own, 
of  the  genuineness  of  the  miracle.  Pride  spoke,  jeal- 
ousy spoke,  and  she  hearkened  to  both  voices.  Why 
had  Mary  Xorbert  that  which  Eva  Fitzgower  had  not, 
but  desired?  She  would  not  sue,  she  demanded  fair 
dealing  on  the  part  of  her  Maker.  Already  her 
thoughts  implied  that  her  demand  would  not  be  com- 
plied with,  sprang  from  an  anticipation  of  defeat. 

The  music  ceased,  the  bell  was  rung  again,  the  ac- 
tion proceeded,  the  climax  was  at  hand.  All  the  peo- 
ple in  her  neighbourhood  bowed  their  heads;  they 
believed ;  faith  had  been  given  to  them — not  to  herself. 
They  were  in  need  of  no  proof,  no  sign;  she  was. 
God  was  unjust.  Was  not  she  as  worthy  as  her  cx)m- 
panionsT  How  many  of  them  were  willing  to  sacrifice 
themselves  for  the  faith  and  die  for  it  as  she  would  be 
did  she  possess  it — the  proof,  the  certainty !  Again 
the  bell  was  rung,  the  church  was  hushed,  not  a  cough, 
not  a  rustle  disturbed  the  silence.  Ahead  in  the 
sanctuary  were  movement  and  sound,  for  there  the 
great  scene  was  being  enacted. 

A  slight  stir  caused  Eva  to  turn,  and  she  beheld  old 
Simon  Stock  striking  his  breast  and  muttering,  "  May 
the  Body  and  Blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  profit  me 
a  sinner,  as  an  eternal  remedy,  unto  life  everlasting. " 

The  Host  was  uplifted  and  the  bell  rung  again.  A 
smile  of  mockery  parted  Eva's  lips.  In  these  days  it 
doesn't  matter  in  the  least  whether  a  person  is  a  Catho- 
lic, or  a  Protestant,  or  a  Dissenter,  the  adherent  of  any 
other  sect,  or  an  Agnostic.  Broad-minded,  reasonable 
people  are  no  longer  swayed  by  religious  prejudices. 
[174] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Superstition  retires  as  civilisation  advances.  She 
looked  about  her  at  the  bowed  heads  and  kneeling 
figures.  Poor  deluded  souls !  They  had  only  Eome's 
word  for  it  that  a  miracle  was  taking  place.  She  did 
not  condemn  these  poor  simple  people,  she  pitied 
them — all  perhaps  except  Mary  Norbert  and  Mr. 
Stock,  for  they  were  very  near  to  her,  they  Mere  ag- 
gressive, they  mumbled,  they  beat  their  breasts.  It 
didn't  occur  to  them  that  their  neighbour  might  object 
to  their  antics.  They  did  not  give  her  sufficient  room, 
they  incommoded  her ;  she  was  tired  of  kneeling  and 
wanted  to  rise  to  her  feet,  but  she  was  wedged  in  be- 
tween the  pair.  And  of  course  she  wouldn't  disturb 
them,  she  considered  them ;  they  took  no  thought  of 
her !  Mr.  Stock  was  an  old  man  and  not  quite  sane, 
but  Mary  Norbert  was  in  the  full  possession  of  her 
faculties  and  should  not  have  forgotten  her  manners. 
But  then  she  was  a  Romanist!  The  ringing  of  the 
bell,  the  movements  of  the  priests  got  upon  her  nerves ; 
she  lost  her  tolerant  spirit ;  she  wished  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  proceedings,  but  that  was  impossible ;  she  had 
to  remain  in  her  place. 

At  length  the  consecration  was  over  and  the  bell 
rung  for  the  last  time.  She  could  breathe  now,  and 
there  was  no  necessity  to  recall  her  thoughts ;  she  re- 
gretted her  recent  excitement,  for  there  had  been  no 
cause  for  it ;  nothing  whatever  had  happened ;  and  she 
fell  into  a  calm,  tolerant,  very  reasonable  mood.  The 
church  was  pretty,  and  the  altars  were  pretty,  and  the 
music  was  so  so  nice !  Mary  Norbert  was  a  nice  girl. 
Of  course  she  jwas  a  Romanist,  she  had  been  born  a 
[176] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Eomanist.  She  herself  was  an  English  Churchwonian 
— very  orthodox — for  thus  she  had  been  born.  And 
there  were  Agnostics  in  the  land;  they  were  born 
Agnostic,  or  no — can  you  be  born  an  Agnostic  or 
orthodox?  (she  would  put  the  question  to  Mortimer). 
Well,  if  they  were  not  bom  Agnostics  they  inherited 
Agnosticism,  or  caught  it,  or  adopted  it,  or  were  forced 
into  it  by  their  reason.  Well,  who  had  the  right  to 
blame  them !  Surely  they  had  the  right  to  their  opin- 
ions! Meanwhile  the  music  to  this  Benedictus  was 
positively  sweet  and  she  had  difficulty  in  preventing 
herself  from  beating  time  to  it !  She  had  one  or  two 
relapses  from  this  calm,  reasonable  mood :  for  example 
after  telling  herself  that  one  creed  was  as  good  as 
another  and  no  creed  as  good  as  either,  the  question 
formed  itself  in  her  mind;  "But  why,  why  does  the 
Eomish  Church  claim  and  promise  so  much  more  than 
any  other  church  ?  "  Again,  she  inwardly  exclaimed, 
"  Rome's  children  ought  to  be  saints,  but  they  are  not ; 
therefore  they  are  much  worse  than  other  people ! " 

Agnus  Dei  qui  toUis  peccata  mundi,  dona  nobis  paceni. 
There  was  peace  for  Mary  N^orbert,  but  none  for  Eva 
Fitzgower.  The  ladies'  eyes  met  after  the  last  Grospel. 
Against  her  will  the  Duke's  daughter  had  been  con- 
scious of  the  restlessness  of  her  companion ;  she  knew 
something  of  her  history  and  dreaded  her,  regarding 
her  as  a  lovely,  dangerous  woman ;  and  her  eyes  ex- 
pressed an  instinctive  aversion.  Eva  noticed  this,  and 
it  roused  the  demon  in  her ;  she  parted  her  lips  in  a 
mocking  smile.  The  ladies  were  acquaintances  of 
long  standing,  and  their  glances  having  met  civility 
[176] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


demanded  that  they  should  exchange  at  least  a  friendly 
look,  even  though  they  were  in  church.  Lady  Mary 
was  not  aware  that  her  glance  had  been  provocative, 
and  had  expected  to  be  saluted  with  a  smile,  as  indeed 
she  was,  but  with  a  smile  that  sent  the  blood  to  her 
cheek.  As  for  Eva,  the  other's  glance  stirred  afresh 
the  fiery  elements  in  her  nature ;  she  lost  her  self-com- 
mand, and  much  happened  before  she  regained  it. 


13 


[177] 


CHAPTER  XV 

LADY   EVA  YIELDS 

When  Father  Macdonald  had  recited  the  Divine 
Praises,  the  congregation  rose,  quitted  the  benches, 
and  streamed  down  the  nave  and  aisles  of  the  church. 
Eva  kept  her  seat,  partly  because  she  did  not  want  to 
meet  her  acquaintances,  and  partly  because  she  felt 
that  she  was  under  an  obligation  to  the  organist  to 
hear  the  concluding  voluntary.  This  was  Bach's 
great  fugue  in  G  minor,  a  work  which  in  ordinary 
conditions  and  as  interpreted  by  Keramur  would 
have  given  her  much  pleasure,  but  which  in  her  pres- 
ent state  served  as  an  irritant  and  increased  the  con- 
fusion in  her  mind.  The  mbject  and  ansioer,  and  after- 
wards the  interruption  of  the  one  by  the  other,  the 
intermingling  of  the  counterpoints,  the  storm  and 
stress  of  the  work,  the  great  crescendo  at  the  finish 
tortured  her  nerves.  She  rose  to  her  feet,  dizzy,  ill- 
tempered,  anxious  to  vent  her  humour  upon  some  one, 
and  with  a  vague  idea  at  the  back  of  her  mind  that 
further  troublesome  experiences  were  in  store  for  her. 

She  met  her  maid  under  the  organ-gallery,  and  was 
quitting  the  church  when  she  brushed  against  Frank 
Mortimer,  who  turned,  bowed,  and  kept  his  eyes  upon 
her  a  little  longer  than  civility  demanded.  "Tire- 
some i)er8on!"  she  inwardly  exclaimed.  Aloud: 
[178] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"  How-dye-do, "  said  she  and  nodded.  She  next  espied 
Ernest  de  Keramur  standing  in  the  street  at  the  bottom 
of  the  flight  of  steps  that  led  up  to  the  porch,  and 
guessed  by  his  attitude  that  he  had  hurried  to  the  spot 
with  the  intention  of  addressing  her.  Thereupon  she 
resolved  to  take  this  opportunity  of  putting  an  end  to 
his  attentions.  A  nearer  view  of  him,  however,  re- 
vealed the  features  and  expression  that  pleased  her  so 
much  whenever  she  beheld  them,  and  she  modified  her 
resolution;  instead  of  dismissing  him  abruptly  she 
would  explain  to  him  why  further  intercourse  between 
them  was  undesirable.  Meanwhile  she  stood  irreso- 
lute, and  did  not  seem  to  grasp  what  he  was  saying  to 
her.  "Yes?"  she  muttered  absently.  "Yes?  Of 
course  I  shall  be  much  pleased. " 

Her  maid  looked  at  her  with  astonishment.  Her 
Ladyship  much  pleased  to  accompany  a  young  man  to 
his  house  and  be  presented  to  his  mother!  Dredge's 
sense  of  the  proprieties  was  terribly  shocked.  "  But, 
my  lady!"  she  exclaimed.  "My  lady,  here's  the 
carriage. " 

"So  I  see,"  returned  Eva;  and  then:  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  M.  de  Keramur,  I  didn't  hear  what  you  said, " 
upon  which  Ernest  repeated  his  request. 

She  opened  her  eyes  wide  in  surprise.  "Er-er, 
thank  you.  Thank  you  so  much;  but  no — I  think 
not.     M.  de  Keramur,  I  wish  to  say  something  to  you. " 

"But,  my  Lady,  the  carriage!"  her  maid  ejacu- 
lated. 

Eva  turned  to  her.  "You  get  in,"  said  she.  "I 
may  be  a  minute  or  two.  Don't  wait,"  and  she 
[179] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


watched  the  carriage  till  it  was  driven  away,  when 
she  turned  to  the  organist.  "  I  trust  that  you  will  not 
be  hurt  at  what  I  am  going  to  say.  You  will  believe, 
I  am  sure,  .  .  .  By-the-bye,  you  mustn't  forget  to 
thank  Madame  de  Keramur. " 

"  Oh,  no,  but  she  will  be  greatly  disappointed.  She 
is  unfortunately  a  cripple. " 

This  demand  upon  his  companion's  sympathy  was 
not  in  the  best  taste,  but  the  circumstance  did  not 
strike  her.     "  Oh,  how  sad !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  But  she  is  quite  happy, "  he  went  on. 

"Ah,  is  she!    I  was  saying.  ..." 

Again  she  paused.  To  explain  to  the  young  man 
without  hurting  his  feelings  that  his  attentions  to  her 
must  cease  would  not  in  ordinary  circumstances  have 
presented  any  difficulty  to  her,  but  she  was  in  a  state 
of  confusion  and  could  not  fix  her  thoughts  upon  the 
subject.  She  had  an  impulse  to  ease  herself  of  the 
tumultuous  ideas  stirred  in  her  by  the  Mass,  to  launch 
out  into  excitable  speech,  and  the  effort  to  check  it 
employed  all  her  energy.  The  consequence  was  that 
she  presently  found  herself  walking  by  the  side  of  the 
organist,  who  like  herself  seemed  to  be  unaware  of  his 
movements. 

"My  mother  will  be  very  grateful  to  you,"  said  he, 
upon  which  she  glanced  at  him  with  surprise,  for  she 
had  not  yielded  to  his  request.  But  she  perceived 
that  he  thought  that  she  had,  and  the  fact  that  she 
was  accompanying  him  seemed  to  suggest  that  she 
had,  and  it  was  not  worth  while  making  a  fuss  over 
80  trifling  a  matter. 

[180] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Madame  de  Keramur's  boudoir  has  been  described. 
It  resembled  the  show-room  of  a  Catholic  repository 
very  tastefully  arranged.  Upon  entering  it  Eva's 
attention  was  instantly  drawn  to  the  old  lady,  who  was 
seated  upon  the  sofa  and  covered  up  to  her  waist  with 
a  rug.  "What  a  beautiful  old  lady!"  thought  the 
girl,  and  she  smiled  in  her  prettiest  manner. 

Ernest  led  her  forward  and  presented  her,  and  then 
stepped  aside,  whereupon  Madame  de  Keramur  said, 
"  Ah,  it  is  good  of  you  to  come  to  me !  I  wished  to 
thank  you.  You  helped  my  son  to  win  the  post  and 
we  are  so  grateful  to  you.  I  did  not  wish  him  to  be 
a  musician,"  she  went  on,  lowering  her  voice;  "but 
Monsignor  said  that  he  had  genius  and  then  I  gave 
way. " 

She  had  just  finished  speaking  when  a  maid  entered 
and  announced  Monsignor  Vancelour.  Eva  started 
visibly,  rose  to  her  feet,  and  moved  quickly  towards 
Ernest,  who  had  just  placed  a  book  of  music  upon  an 
easel.  He  glanced  at  her  as  she  approached,  and  his 
eyes  were  arrested  by  her  wild  expression. 

"Ah,  is  that  a  copy  of  Beethoven's  Mass?"  she 
asked  in  a  hurried  voice.  "I  want  you  to  show  me 
some  passages  and  explain  them  to  me.  Yes,  thank 
you,  keep  the  book  upon  the  easel." 

Her  manner,  which  was  almost  hysterical,  greatly 
surprised  Ernest.  "  I  did  not  know  that  Monsignor 
was  coming  here  this  morning,"  he  began,  when  she 
interrupted  him. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  want  you  to  show  me  some  passages," 
said  she,  and  opening  the  book  at  random  she  seemed 
[181] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


engrossed  in  the  study  of  its  pages  when  the  priest 
entered  the  room. 

He  was  aware  of  her  presence  soon  after  crossing 
the  threshold,  but  he  showed  no  sui'prise,  merely 
glanced  at  her  (her  face  was  averted  from  him),  and 
then  addressed  himself  to  Madame  de  Keramur  in  his 
usual  courtly  style.  Meanwhile  Ernest,  who  had 
bowed  to  the  priest  as  he  entered,  was  trying  to  keep 
his  eyes  from  Eva,  who  was  still  feigning  interest  in 
the  music. 

"  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower  has  come  to  see  me.  Is  it 
not  kind  of  her!"  said  Madame  de  Keramur  aloud, 
perhaps  to  call  the  girl's  attention  to  the  priest,  for 
she  knew  from  her  son  that  the  pair  had  met. 

Thereupon  Eva  had  to  face  Monsignor,  but  having 
vouchsafed  him  a  curt  nod  she  tui'ued  and  addressed 
Ernest  in  a  hurried  almost  violent  manner  and  in  a 
tone  that  could  be  heard  by  the  others.  "The  organ 
was  too  loud,  much  too  loud,  the  music  was  too  sensa- 
tional, the  service  too  emotional!  Emotional  music 
should  not  be  performed  in  a  place  of  worship.  Of 
course  you  don't  agree  with  me  because  you're  a 
Eoman  Catholic.  Eeligious  belief  is  largely  a  matter 
of  temperament.  Excitable  hysterical  people  are 
attracted  by  the  Eoman  Church ;  but  the  English  are 
not  a  very  excitable  race.  Everybody  knows  that  the 
emotions  are  apt  to  lead  us  astray,  and  many  people 
think  that  the  Church  of  Eome  deliberately  appeals  to 
the  weaker  side  of  our  nature.  Still  I  must  congratu- 
late you,  M.  de  Keramur.  You  certainly  know  how 
to  excite  your  listeners,  and  I  can  imagine  your  per- 
[182] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


formances  receiving  much  applause  in  a  concert  room. 
I  felt  inclined  to  clap  my  hands  at  one  part  of  the 
service.  You  must  let  me  know  when  you  play  at  a 
concert.  But  perhaps  you  play  only  in  a  church? 
No  !  I  am  so  glad. "  She  then  asked  Ernest  to  show 
her  certain  passages  in  Beethoven's  Mass. 

With  ready  tact  Monsignor  Vaucelour  continued 
his  conversation  with  Madame  de  Keramur  and  tried 
to  engross  her  attention  while  Eva  was  making  this 
astonishing  exhibition  of  herself. 

"  Ah,  what  am  I  saying ! "  inwardly  exclaimed  the 
girl ;  and  then  again  her  voice  was  to  be  heard  ad- 
dressing Ernest  in  the  same  reckless  tone.  "I  looked 
out  for  you  at  Lady  Newark's  reception.  The  Duke  of 
Thanet  was  there.  Lady  Purley,  the  Fitzurses,  all  the 
Catholics.  Don't  you  know  any  of  your  co-religion- 
ists?" 

"  I  am  not  a  fashionable  person, "  said  Ernest  quietly. 

"Fashionable  person! "  Eva  repeated  with  a  laugh. 
"Fashionable  Catholics,  fashionable  Protestants, 
they're  much  the  same,  are  they  not?  Eeligion  has 
very  little  influence  over  people  nowadays.  Thank 
you  so  much  for  showing  me  the  music.  You  are  so 
kind." 

She  then  turned  away  from  him  and  stood  still  for 
a  moment,  an  ironical  smile  parting  her  lips,  the  light 
of  excitement  in  her  eyes.  "  Ah,  what  am  I  doing ! 
What  does  it  matter !  A  priest  and  an  organist ! "  she 
inwardly  exclaimed.  She  looked  very  beautiful  at 
this  moment,  but  not  as  a  respectful  admirer  would 
have  liked  her  to  look.  The  wistful  expression  which 
[183] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


was  so  characteristic  of  her,  the  air  of  tragedy  which 
seemed  to  hang  about  her,  the  kindliness  and  sincerity 
and  frankness  which  were  so  frequently  to  be  read  in 
her  countenance  and  which  modified  the  impression 
produced  by  her  commanding  carriage  and  bold  type 
of  feature, — ^all  these  were  gone,  and  the  dangerous 
qualities,  the  bad  impulses,  the  evil  in  her  nature  ex- 
hibited in  their  stead. 

She  bade  adieu  to  Ernest,  then  turned  to  Monsignor, 
her  face  still  retaining  its  ironical  expression,  bowed  to 
him,  gathered  her  skirt,  and  was  moving  towards  the 
door  when  a  half -smothered  exclamation  from  the 
priest  arrested  her,  and  she  turned  and  beheld  a  look 
of  reproach  upon  his  handsome  face.  The  next  instant 
he  glanced  at  Madame  de  Keramur,  and  that  awoke 
Eva  to  the  old  lady's  existence  and  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  ignored  her  in  her  passage  to  the  door.  In 
confusion  she  approached  the  stricken  woman,  who 
seemed  about  to  speak  and  then  started  forward,  and 
then  fell  back  in  a  swoon.  The  girl  emitted  a  cry  and 
bent  over  the  poor  lady,  while  Monsignor  went  for  a 
restorative.  A  minute  later  Madame  de  Keramur  re- 
covered consciousness  and  looked  at  Eva  with  a  puz- 
zled expression,  whereupon  Ernest  re-introduced  them. 
While  doing  so  he  was  aware  that  the  priest  was 
frowning,  and  interpreting  this  as  a  sign  that  Mon- 
signor disapproved  his  act,  he  made  the  most  of  his 
friendship  with  the  girl  in  his  explanation  to  his 
mother,  his  tone  having  a  ring  of  defiance  in  it  that 
was  directed  at  the  priest.  Eva  noticed  this  with  a 
feeling  of  exultation  that  was  utterly  unworthy  of 
[184] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her ;  at  the  same  time  she  was  anxious  to  escape  from 
an  embarrassing  situation,  and  the  next  minute  she 
took  her  departure. 

Monsignor  lingered  for  a  few  minutes  and  then,  bid- 
ding the  old  lady  adieu,  motioned  Ernest  to  follow 
him,  and  when  they  had  quitted  the  room  expressed 
his  displeasure  with  the  young  man  for  having  brought 
Lady  Eva  to  the  house.  Ernest  resented  this,  but  held 
his  peace ;  and  Monsignor,  after  observing  his  proud, 
obstinate  expression,  took  leave  of  him  without  offer- 
ing him  his  hand. 

In  her  boudoir  in  the  house  in  Eaton  Square,  Eva 
sat  in  a  tragic  attitude.  She  covered  her  eyes  and 
part  of  her  forehead  with  her  left  hand  and  extended 
her  right,  as  though  she  were  thrusting  some  horrible 
object  from  her  sight;  but  the  scene  in  Madame  de 
Keramur's  room  would  not  quit  her  mental  vision. 
The  part  she  had  played  in  it  overwhelmed  her  with 
shame.  She  had  lost  her  self-respect ;  she  loathed  and 
despised  herself,  of  whom  she  had  once  been  proud. 
Suddenly  an  old  thought  and  a  figure  she  had  often  used 
recurred  to  her :  she  had  taken  refuge  in  her  pride ;  it 
was  her  citadel ;  and  till  Rome  had  undermined  it  she 
was  a  free  woman.  Rome  Jmd  undermined  it  and  had 
vanquished  her! 

When  she  fell  into  a  calmer  mood  she  recalled  the 
state  of  her  feelings  prior  to  her  shocking  conduct  in 
Madame  de  Keramur's  room.  She  remembered  her 
anticipation  that  a  proof  of  the  genuineness  of  the 
miracle  would  be  vouchsafed  her  during  the  Elevation 
of  the  Mass,  how  the  anticipation  changed  into  a 
[185] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


demand,  her  savage  disappointment  that  it  was  not 
gratified,  her  desire  that  the  ceremony  should  cease, 
her  impulse  to  cry  out  that  it  was  all  a  sham.  Upon 
quitting  the  church  she  was  so  filled  with  hatred  and 
revenge  against  Rome  that  she  felt  she  must  needs 
deliver  herself  of  them :  this  accounted  for  her  irresolu- 
tion and  inability  to  express  herself  when  she  met  the 
organist.  Upon  entering  Madame  de  Keramur's  room 
the  feelings  somewhat  abated,  but  the  announcement 
of  Monsignor  Vancelour  stirred  them  afresh.  She  was 
glad  that  he  had  come,  for  he  was  a  representative  of 
Eome,  and  his  presence  seemed  to  afford  her  an  op- 
portunity of  discharging  her  feelings,  and  she  had 
discharged  them.  Ah  what  a  figure  she  must  have 
presented !  She  had  disgraced  hei-self ;  her  pride  was 
shattered ;  she  fell  again  into  a  despairing  mood ;  she 
longed  for  death.  A  minute  later  her  eyes,  which 
had  been  glancing  wildly  about  the  room,  alighted 
upon  the  crucifix  that  had  stirred  such  conflicting 
feelings  in  her  of  late ;  whereupon  she  uttered  a  cry, 
rose  to  her  feet,  flung  herself  upon  hei*  knees  before 
the  symbol,  bowed  her  head,  and  wept. 

It  is  a  commonplace  that  true  love  stirs  the  creative 
faculty  in  the  artist,  urges  him  to  expression.  This 
had  happened  with  Keramur;  he  had  composed  a 
fugue,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  following  day  he  set 
forth  from  his  home  with  the  intention  of  performing 
it  upon  the  organ  at  St.  Peter's.  He  hoped  that  "  the 
lady  with  the  wistful  face  "  would  be  in  the  church, 
for  he  wanted  her  to  hear  the  work,  in  which  despite 
its  necessary  strictness  of  form  he  had  infused  much 
[186] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


emotion.  Even  to  an  unmusical  person  the  fugue 
suggests  complications,  entanglements,  conflicting 
ideas,  and  their  solution  in  triumphant  peace:  an 
epitome,  let  us  hope,  of  our  history;  and  Keramur 
wished  to  encourage  and  cheer  the  distressed  lady 
with  his  music. 

His  hope  was  gratified:  she  was  in  the  church, 
kneeling  in  one  of  the  side  chapels  before  an  altar  that 
contained  a  gorgeous  reredos.  Monsignor  Vancelour 
was  going  the  Way  of  the  Cross,  a  devotional  journey 
he  performed  every  day  at  the  same  hour,  and  Frank 
Mortimer  was  sitting  on  one  of  the  benches  in  the 
nave,  watching  the  pair  and  wondering  whether  they 
would  meet. 

As  usual  Keramur  began  his  performance  by 
extemporising  upon  the  diapasons  of  the  great  organ ; 
he  then  drew  the  four-feet  and  two-feet  registers  and 
gave  out  the  subject  of  the  fugue.  This  was  repeated 
by  another  part  at  the  interval  of  a  fifth,  and  then  the 
third  part  took  it  up  and  then  the  fourth,  while  the 
others  ran  on  interweaving  their  counterpoints  in 
harmonious  progression.  Again  and  again  the  theme 
appeared,  now  in  one  part,  now  in  another;  then  it 
got  broken  up,  and  then  disappeared  altogether. 
Meanwhile  the  power  of  the  organ  was  gradually 
increased. 

Monsignor  was  approaching  the  chapel  in  which 
Eva  was  kneeling,  and  Mortimei*  saw  that:  she  was 
awaiting  him,  that  she  intended  to  address  him.  Her 
face  was  bright  and  radiant,  but  a  cloud  passed  over 
it  when  the  priest  glanced  at  her,  and  she  bowed  her 
[187] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


head.  Her  attitude  was  humble,  that  of  a  suppliant ; 
Monsignor's  was  paternal,  kind,  but  full  of  dignity. 
It  was  a  fine  picture,  Mortimer  thought,  this  meeting 
of  the  beautiful  lady  and  the  courtly  ecclesiastic  in  the 
dim  Gothic  church.  But  the  music  was  disturbing, 
and  Mortimer  felt  that  Keramur's  good  angel  must 
for  once  have  deserted  him;  soft  melodious  strains 
should  have  accompanied  the  meeting  of  the  pair,  not 
this  tremendous  uproar.  For  Ernest  had  reached  the 
stretto  of  the  fugue,  where  the  answer  crowds  in  upon 
the  subject ;  and  to  add  to  the  tumult  he  brought  bat- 
talion after  battalion  of  sound  into  play  till  the  whole 
force  of  the  instrument  was  engaged.  But  as  Mon- 
signor  and  Eva  walked  towards  the  sacristy  the  struggle 
in  the  music  ceased,  the  subject  was  again  proclaimed 
triumphantly  and  for  the  last  time  by  the  pedal  reeds, 
the  counterpoints  were  resolved,  and  a  massive  chord 
brought  the  composition  to  an  end. 

END  OF  PABT  THE  FIRST 


[188] 


PART   II 

THE   "CONVERT" 


[189] 


PART  II 
THE    "CONVERT" 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  STRUGGLE  AT  TANWORTH,    AND  ITS  RESULT 

After  her  reception  into  the  Church  of  Rome  Eva 
was  anxious  to  be  reconciled  with  her  sister-in-law  in 
order  that  they  might  work  conjointly  in  the  interests 
of  their  religion.  Tanworth  Castle  and  Newark  House 
might  become  meeting-places  for  ecclesiastical  digni- 
taries, headquarters  of  the  Catholic  party,  centres 
whence  Catholic  influences  might  spread.  With  this 
idea  and  burning  with  the  zeal  of  the  recent  "con- 
vert, "  Eva  accompanied  her  aunt  to  Tanworth,  where 
it  had  been  arranged  that  they  should  spend  the  first 
three  weeks  of  August. 

Lady  Newark's  invitation,  which  had  been  sent  by 
post  to  Lady  Caterham,  was  not  very  pressing,  and  her 
reception  of  the  newcomers  was  not  very  cordial; 
moreover  she  displayed  some  awkwardness  and  hesita- 
tion while  presenting  them  to  the  other  members  of 
her  house  party.  These  included  Father  Macdonald, 
and  were  all  prominent  Catholics,  people  whom  Eva 
wished  figuratively  to  embrace  as  her  spiritual 
brethren.  To  her  surprise  and  mortification,  how- 
ever, they  showed  a  disposition  to  avoid  her,  so  far 
as  was  compatible  with  good  manners.  They  were 
[191] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


polite  but  cold  and  distant,  and  it  added  to  her  mor- 
tification to  observe  that  they  seemed  more  friendly 
disposed  even  to  Lady  Caterham  than  to  herself.  And 
they  were  her  brethren  of  the  faith  whom  she  had 
wished  to  love,  imbue  with  zeal  and  enlist  in  the  cause 
of  Eoman  propagandism !  Her  surprise  and  disap- 
pointment were  so  great  that  on  the  third  day  of  her 
sojourn  at  Tan  worth  she  said  to  her  aunt,  "Can  you 
tell  me  why  Tanworth's  widow  and  these  people  are 
80  cold  and  distant  to  us! " 

"  Us  t "  said  the  other.  "  I  find  them  pleasant 
enough." 

"I  am  very  much  disappointed  with  them,"  Eva 
remarked. 

Lady  Caterham  seemed  amused.  "I  thought  you 
would  be, "  she  observed. 

"  My  little  sister  avoids  me." 

"She  fears  you." 

"Fears  me?     Why?" 

Lady  Caterham  dropped  her  eyes  and  smiled. 

"  Why  should  she  fear  me  ? " 

"I  hardly  like  to  say.  I  wish  to  spare  your  feel- 
ings." But  on  Eva's  repeating  her  question  she  ob- 
served, "You  are  a  very  ambitious  person,  my  niece. 
The  Roman  Church  is  a  very  wonderful  organisation, 
and  it  is  your  ambition  to  have  a  hand  in  the  direction 
of  it.  You  would  like  to  utilise  this  woman's  wealth 
in  the  interests  of  the  church  you  have  taken  under 
your  patronage." 

"But  she  herself  is  a  Catholic." 

"But  not  a  zealot." 

[192] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"But  why  should  the  other  people  here,  even  Father 
Macdonald,  fight  shy  of  me?  " 

"I  fear  that  they  misconceive  your  motives  in 
changing  your  creed." 

"What  do  you  mean?  " 

Again  Lady  Caterham  smiled,  but,  as  her  companion 
perceived,  she  was  not  unwilling  to  communicate  her 
news.  "  They  may  think  that  you  changed  your  creed 
in  order  to  regain  your  influence  over  Tanworth's 
widow." 

Eva  started.  "Has  she  told  them  that?"  she 
asked. 

"She  has  certainly  hinted  to  that  effect." 

Eva  emitted  a  little  cry.  "  Oh  no !  It  is  too  cruel ! 
too  treacherous ! " 

"Your  experience  of  the  woman  might  have  led 
you  to  expect  something  of  the  sort." 

"We  must  quit  Tanworth  to-morrow." 

"  I  intend  to  remain  here. " 

"  But  how  can  you  ?  " 

"I  think  it  as  well  that  we  should  come  to  an  under- 
standing, Eva.  I  don't  interfere  in  your  affairs  and  I 
cannot  allow  you  to  interfere  in  mine.  Much  that 
you've  done  in  the  past,  probably  much  that  you  will 
do  in  the  future,  I  don't  and  sha'n't  approve.  You 
did  not  and  you  will  not  consult  my  wishes,  and  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  should ;  but  I  claim  reciprocity. 
I  am  afraid  that  this  sounds  rather  brutal,  and  I  don't 
like  to  have  to  say  it ;  I  want  us  to  be  on  good  terms, 
I  am  anxious  that  you  should  be  happy ;  but  we  think 
differently  on  many  subjects.  For  example,  I  think 
13  [  193  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


it  my  duty  to  try  to  bring  this  woman  back  to  the 
Establishment,  and  I  shall  remain  here  or  wherever 
she  is  and  try  to  influence  her  against  Father  Mac- 
donald.  It  will  be  a  perfectly  fair  contest,  and  the 
stronger  and  more  persistent  of  us  will  win.  It  would 
be  the  height  of  absurdity  to  pretend  that  the  woman's 
spiritual  welfare  were  really  involved  in  our  little 
struggle." 

Eva's  only  comment  upon  this  was  a  reproachful 
glance  at  the  speaker.  After  a  short  silence  she  said, 
"  Well,  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  remain  here  while 
that — that  sort  of  thing  is  going  on. " 

"  Certainly  not.  You  are  already  in  a  false  position. 
I  intend  if  possible  to  prolong  my  visit  here,  and  if 
you  like  I  will  lend  you  the  house  in  Eaton  Square 
with  Emma  [Lady  Braintree] ,  who  is  already  settled 
there.  I  have  let  Frampton ;  I  can't  afford  to  keep 
the  place  up.  Perhaps  you  had  better  engage  Miss 
Norris  again.  No  ?  Well,  it  is  not  necessary.  Tan- 
worth's  widow  tells  me  that  she  intends  to  make  this 
place  her  headquarters  for  a  year  or  more,  and  I  hope 
to  remain  with  her  the  greater  part  of  that  time.  You 
will,  of  course,  be  able  to  go  wherever  you  like  with 
Emma,  and  she  will  entertain  our  friends  in  Eaton 
Square ;  but  in  my  absence  I  shall  have  to  ask  you 
to  defray  half  the  expenses  of  the  household.  Of 
course  it  will  be  very  dull  for  you  during  the  next  few 
months,  that  is  if  you  remain  in  London.  You  need 
not  do  so ;  you  can  pay  visits  with  Emma  or  go  abroad 
with  her.  She  likes  gaiety,  poor  thing!  It  would 
please  her  immensely  to  take  you  about  during  the 
[194] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


winter  and  the  season.  Do  you  agree  to  this  arrange- 
ment?" 

Eva  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

Thus  was  the  girl  virtually  ejected  from  the  mansion 
in  which  she  had  spent  the  happiest  days  of  her  youth. 
Her  reflections  upon  the  circumstance  may  be  im- 
agined, also  her  reflections  upon  her  sister-in-law's 
treacherous  character,  and  upon  the  thought  that 
several  of  her  most  respected  co-religionists  must 
judge  her  guilty  of  a  particularly  mean  deceit. 
However  "Work!  Work!  Work!"  she  mentally  ex- 
claimed ;  and  no  sooner  was  she  installed  in  the  Lon- 
don house  with  Lady  Braintree  than  she  set  about 
laying  her  plans  for  the  campaign  that  was  to  win  her 
such  notoriety  in  the  great  social  world. 

Nineteen  months  passed  before  the  paths  of  the 
sisters-in-law  again  crossed.  They  met  occasionally 
during  that  period,  and  for  short  intervals  changed 
their  abode,  but  the  greater  portion  of  the  time  was 
spent  by  Eva  in  the  house  in  Eaton  Square  (under 
the  chaperonage  of  Lady  Braintree)  and  by  Lady 
Newark  in  the  huge  Brummagem  castle  in  the  Mid- 
lands. 

It  was  not  a  difficult  task  for  Lady  Caterham  to  win 
the  confidence  of  the  Marchioness  and  get  herself  in- 
vited to  prolong  her  sojourn  at  Tanworth.  After  a 
week  or  two  the  younger  woman  liked  to  have  the 
older  one  with  her  because  her  presence  kept  in  check 
the  strong  religious  element  at  the  castle.  Lady 
Caterham  soon  perceived  that  Father  Macdonald's 
eye  troubled  her  companion  and  that  she  was  bored 
[195] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


by  the  people  with  whom  he  surrounded  her ;  accord- 
ingly she  gave  the  little  widow  cheerful  pictures  of 
life  in  which  there  were  no  exacting  priests  and  no 
"  piosities. "  She  hinted  that  Father  Macdonald  inter- 
fered too  much  in  her  companion's  affairs,  that  he 
was  brusque,  not  quite  a  gentleman,  that  his  manners 
to  herself,  for  example,  were  not  what  they  should 
be,  mere  Protestant  though  she  was.  She  posed  as  a 
martyr.  Father  Macdonald  identified  her  as  his  ad- 
versary and  was  in  truth  a  little  aggressive ;  he  would 
allude  in  general  company,  even  at  meal-times,  to  the 
work  going  on  in  the  chapel  attached  to  the  castle  (it 
was  being  converted  into  a  Eoman  Catholic  place  of 
worship)  and  to  religious  subjects.  Whereupon  Lady 
Caterham  would,  in  a  glance,  communicate  her  em- 
barrassment, her  distress,  her  shocked  feelings  to  her 
hostess.  The  priest  endeavoured  to  restrain  the  grow- 
ing intimacy  between  the  ladies,  and  his  endeavours 
were  not  in  the  best  taste.  Lady  Caterham  averred  to 
the  Marchioness.  These  tactics  were  so  far  successful 
that  Lady  Newark  inclined  to  the  side  of  her  new 
friend  when  she  was  with  her;  when,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  was  with  Father  Macdonald  she  fell  again 
under  his  power.  But  the  priest  could  only  pay  oc- 
casional visits  to  Tanworth,  and  in  his  absence  Lady 
Caterham  made  headway.  Here  is  a  sample  of  the 
conversation  between  the  ladies : 

"My  dear,  you  must  remember  that  Father  Mac- 
donald's  a  saint,"  said  the  Marchioness. 

"Oh  I  can  make  allowances,"  returned  her  com- 
panion. 

[196] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"NowMonsignor  Vancelour,  Father  John  as  we  call 
him,  is  a  most  refined  person." 

"Yes?  He  is  in  trouble  at  headquarters,  I  hear.  I 
have  a  slight  acquaintance  with  Cardinal  Grimsby." 

"  I  am  afraid,  dear  Lady  Caterham,  that  you  don't 
like  priests." 

"I  respect  their  cleverness." 

"Oh,  but  they  are  good — good! " 

"Good  managers — yes."  And  then  she  would  de- 
scribe to  her  "dear  Mary"  the  methods  of  the  priests. 
She  respected  them  greatly,  she  at  least  was  fair  to 
them ;  it  was  not  true  that  personal  aggrandisement 
was  the  motive  of  their  acts,  still  less  was  it  true  that 
they  aimed  at  the  gratification  of  their  passions.  Their 
subtle,  Jesuitical,  crafty,  and — from  a  worldly  though 
not  heavenly  point  of  view — dishonourable  methods 
of  gaining  influence  over  people,  women  especially, 
were  adopted  in  the  interests  of  their  church.  "Mind 
you,  I  am  a  sort  of  Jesuit  myself,"  added  Lady  Cater- 
ham. "  Oh  yes  I  am  I  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  do 
harm  that  good  may  come  of  it,  speak  with  a  double 
meaning,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  I  am  an  English- 
woman— we  are  Englishwomen — but  I  do  like  to  gain 
influence  over  people,  not  in  the  interests  of  a  church 
but  in  the  interests — well,  of  my,  of  our  family.  I 
think  of  my  brother ;  I  hope  that  you  think  of  him 
sometimes."  The  candour  of  this  naturally  appealed 
to  the  Marchioness.  Then  Lady  Caterham  obtained 
leave  of  her  hostess  to  invite  some  of  the  old  friends 
of  the  Great  Lord  Newark  to  Tanworth,  and  they 
accepted  the  invitation ;  but  this  move  did  not  advance 
[197] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her  cause  much,  for  the  newcomers  mixed  in  a  friendly 
spirit  with  Lady  Newark's  Catholic  guests,  and  in  the 
eyes  of  the  hostess  were  indistinguishable  from  them, 
both  sets  being  quiet,  restrained,  dignified,  and  there- 
fore, in  the  opinion  of  the  Marchioness,  "dull — dull — 
dull — deadly  dull !  "  Apparently,  however.  Lady 
Caterham  was  progressing,  for  when  Father  Mac- 
donald  wrote  one  day  to  the  mistress  of  Tanworth  to 
regret  that  in  the  next  few  months  he  would  not  have 
time  to  visit  her  at  the  castle  and  to  recommend  to 
her  a  permanent  chaplain,  the  Marchioness,  at  the 
instigation  of  her  new  friend,  declined  the  services  of 
the  latter  and  suspended  the  building  operations  in 
the  chapel.  So  anxious  indeed  was  she  not  to  offend 
the  religious  susceptibilities  of  Lady  Caterham  that 
she  would  not  order  her  horses  out  on  the  Sunday 
mornings  but  drove  to  the  neighbouring  town  to  Mass 
in  a  hired  vehicle ! 

But  the  weeks,  the  months,  a  year  passed,  and  the 
struggle  between  Lady  Caterham  and  the  representa- 
tives of  Eome  was  still  in  progress.  The  older  widow 
was  nearly  always  in  the  company  of  the  younger,  but 
she  rarely  had  her  to  herself.  Lady  Newark's  Catho- 
lic acquaintances  were  constantly  turning  up  and 
being  restored  to  the  confidence  of  the  shifty  little 
lady ;  moreover,  her  business  affairs  were  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  Catholic  firm  of  solicitors  to  whom  she 
had  transferred  them  after  her  rupture  with  Eva. 
The  ubiquitous  Mortimer  was  much  amused  by  this 
struggle.  Lady  Newark  was  wont  to  complain 
against  both  parties  to  him,  and,  he  suspected, 
[198] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


was  in  the  habit  of  abusing  and  betraying  each  to 
each. 

One  day,  Lady  Caterhain  chanced  to  enter  her  host- 
ess's boudoir  at  Tanworth,  found  it  empty,  and  was 
quitting  it  when  her  eye  fell  upon  two  books  in  brown- 
paper  covers.  Both  were  well-thumbed ;  one  turned 
out  to  be  a  frivolous  novel,  and  the  other  a  copy  of 
"The  Garden  of  the  Soul."  She  read  a  page  or  two 
out  of  the  latter,  and  then  put  it  down  and  took  up 
the  novel.  "This,"  said  she  a  few  minutes  later,  "is 
the  more  important " ;  and  then  bethought  her  of  her 
nephew,  Alec.  Life  at  Tanworth  was  dull ;  the  March- 
ioness's acquaintances,  for  all  their  high-sounding 
names,  were  lacking  in  "smartness"  and  brilliance; 
and  Lady  Caterham  pondered  the  idea  of  summoning 
Alec  to  the  castle  and  asking  him  to  divert  the  little 
widow.  It  was  a  hazardous  experiment;  Alec  was 
brilliant  and  up  to  date,  but  he  had  friends  in  the 
neighbourhood  with  whom  it  was  undesirable  that  Lady 
Newark  should  become  acquainted.  Still  she  thought 
she  could  trust  her  nephew  to  amuse  the  woman  with- 
out leading  her  into  mischief,  it  being  evident  to  her 
by  this  time  that  unless  her  companion's  taste  for  light 
amusement  were  ministered  to  she  would  either  take 
some  desperate  step  or  eschew  "the  world"  altogether 
and  fall  completely  under  priestly  dominion.  Alec 
was  accordingly  summoned  to  Tanworth. 

The  influence  of  this  handsome,  high-spirited  young 

man  was  at  once  felt  by  the  inmates  of  the  castle. 

He  organised  a  series  of  entertainments,  beginning 

with  a  /^  champ^tre  and  following  it  with  a  Watteau 

[199] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


picnic,  in  which  he  had  the  aid  of  the  artistic  Mor- 
timer; when  the  shooting  season  set  in  he  invit«d 
some  of  his  friends  to  join  the  house  party,  and  good 
sport  was  enjoyed  in  the  Tan  worth  preserves,  the  ladies 
turning  up  at  luncheon,  and  taking  part  with  the  young 
men  in  charades,  dumb-crambo,  and  other  such  games 
in  the  evening  after  dinner.  He  taught  his  hostess  to 
ride.  He  was  amazed  that  she  had  not  already  learnt 
that  accomplishment,  and  expressed  himself  as  such 
to  his  aunt,  Lady  Catcrham.  "  ISo  wonder  you  have 
had  trouble  with  her — you  and  Eva,"  said  he.  "You 
don't  understand  her  a  bit."  He  characterised  Mor- 
timer as  a  "thundering  ass,"  and  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised that  a  woman  who  had  been  denied  the  means 
of  rational  enjoyment  should  have  taken  to  Eomanism ; 
in  such  circumstances  he  himself  might  have  taken  to 
it,  Eomanism  or  drink  or  something  of  the  sort.  He 
and  the  Marchioness  got  on  very  well  together,  and 
during  his  sojourn  at  Tan  worth  she  was  far  happier 
than  she  had  been  at  any  time  since  her  husband's 
death. 

Matters  having  reached  this  satisfactory  state  Lady 
Caterham,  who  was  in  poor  health,  arranged  to  spend 
the  winter  and  early  spring  in  Cannes  with  her  niece. 
She  would  have  liked  to  take  the  Marchioness  with 
her,  but  feared  to  propose  this  lest  the  little  widow 
should  imagine  that  she  was  distrusted ;  she  accord- 
ingly wrote  to  Lady  Braintree,  asking  her  to  come  to 
Tanworth  and  remain  there  in  her  absence.  But  be- 
fore Lady  Caterham  quitted  the  castle  an  incident  that 
was  to  have  important  consequences  took  place,  an 
[200] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


incident  that  did  not  come  to  her  knowledge  till  some 
months  after  its  occurrence.  It  consisted  in  Alec's 
presenting  to  Lady  Newark  the  lady  who  shared  his 
racing  stable,  the  notorious  Mrs.  Wimpole,  and  it  took 
place  as  he  and  his  companion  were  quitting  the  field 
after  the  first  run  of  the  season  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Tan  worth.  To  do  him  justice,  he  tried  to  avoid 
making  the  ladies  known  to  each  other — nay,  he  was 
rude  to  Mrs.  Wimpole,  swinging  his  horse  round  as 
she  approached,  and  telling  the  Marchioness  that  they 
must  hurry  away ;  but  Mrs.  Wimpole  came  abreast  of 
him  and  asked  him  point-blank  to  present  her,  upon 
which  he  complied  with  the  request.  On  the  way 
home  he  exhibited  a  quality  not  seldom  to  be  found 
in  men  of  his  stamp,  moral  cowardice;  he  begged, 
implored  the  little  widow,  made  her  promise  him, 
give  him  her  word  of  honour  that  she  would  keep  her 
introduction  to  Mrs.  Wimpole  a  secret  from  "Lady 
Cat." 

In  the  following  week  Lady  Caterham  journeyed  to 
London  with  Alec.  "  I  think  we  can  trust  her  for  the 
next  few  months,"  said  she;  "but  in  my  absence  you 
might  run  down  to  Tanworth  occasionally.  I  have 
established  Lady  Braintree  and  a  few  safe  people 
there." 

Alec  pleaded  a  heap  of  engagements. 

"Well,  you  have  been  of  great  use  to  me,"  said  his 
aunt.     "Thank  you,  thank  you,  my  dear  feUow." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  don't  deserve  many  thanks," 
was  his  inward  comment,  and  he  meditated  on  the 
probable  consequences  of  his  act  of  introducing  the 
[201] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Marchioness  to  his  horse-racing  partner.  "I  must 
have  a  smoke  and  a  drink  over  this,"  he  thought, 
after  quitting  his  aunt,  and  he  strolled  into  a  club  and 
ordered  those  aids  to  reflection.  "Now  there  isn't  an 
atom  of  a  doubt  that  Loo  "Wimpole  is  a  jade,"  he 
mused.  "  She'll  '  discover '  the  little  fool,  trot  her 
out,  and  help  herself — trust  Loo  for  that !  But  how 
can  I  prevent  it?  I  hate  these  complications.  Hang 
it  all,  why  should  I  bother  myself  about  the  matter  ? 
It  isn't  my  fault ;  it's  Lady  Cat's  and  Eva's  and  that 
cocky  little  prig  Mortimer's  fault!  They're  responsi- 
ble. I  was  called  in  too  late.  The  best  thing  I  can 
do  is  to  bolt!" 

With  Lady  Caterham  abroad,  Mortimer  abroad,  the 
priestly  influence  greatly  reduced,  and  only  Lady 
Braintree  and  a  few  powerless  persons  at  Tanworth, 
the  way  to  the  Marchioness  lay  open  to  the  advance 
of  Mrs.  "Wimpole.  They  met  for  the  second  time  a 
few  days  later,  a  correspondence  ensued,  and  Mrs. 
Wimpole  visited  the  castle,  neither  Lady  Braintree 
nor  any  of  the  other  inmates  knowing  anything  about 
her.  Then  the  Marchioness  returned  her  visit  and 
spent  a  week  at  The  Nook,  which  was  about  ten  miles 
distant  from  Tanworth,  and  found  herself  in  very 
"  smart "  company.  Some  weeks  later  Lady  Newark 
journeyed  to  town  to  see  her  dentist  (so  she  told  her 
companions  at  Tanworth),  but  upon  arriving  in  Lon- 
don she  drove  to  a  house  in  Park  Lane,  where  she 
stopi)ed  a  day  or  two  with  her  new  friend  and  made 
the  acquaintance  of  some  more  "smart"  people. 
"Everybody  wants  to  know  you,"  said  Mrs.  Wim- 
[202] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


pole.  "You're  the  person  we  all  want,"  which  was  a 
truthful  and  a  frank  statement.  During  the  winter 
and  early  spring  Lady  Newark  made  frequent  excur- 
sions from  Tanworth  for  change  of  air ;  went  north, 
south,  east,  and  west,  and  crossed  the  Channel,  and 
wherever  she  went  she  met  Mrs.  Wimpole  and  a 
"smart"  crowd  anxious  to  make  her  acquaintance. 

Lady  Braintree's  suspicions  had  been  awakened 
long  before  this,  but  she  disliked  prying  and  tale 
bearing ;  at  length,  however,  she  felt  it  her  duty  to 
let  Lady  Caterham  know  of  the  little  widow's  wander- 
ing propensities.  The  news  reached  Cannes  in  the 
second  week  of  April,  but  by  that  time  the  Marchioness 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Wimpole,  having 
passed  successively  out  of  those  of  Eva,  Father  Mac- 
donald,  and  Lady  Caterham. 


[203] 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  NOTOEIOUS  MES.    WIMPOLE 

Mss.  WncPOLE  was  a  prominent  member  of  what 
was  known  as  a  "certain  set."  There  was  a  mystery 
attaching  to  her  birth,  rumour  saying  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  royal  personage,  and  nothing  was  known 
of  her  late  husband.  Her  social  success  was  a  matter 
of  astonishment  and  disgust  to  well-bred  people,  but 
she  was  a  dangerous  woman  to  quarrel  with,  and  more 
than  one  grande  dame  who  had  turned  her  back  on  her 
had  subsequently  welcomed  her  under  her  roof.  "  I 
suppose  that  I  must  ask  that  person?  "  was  often  said, 
and  the  usual  response  to  it  was,  "Of  course  you 
must."  "  But  why  should  I  ?  "  was  occasionally  asked, 
whereupon  the  other  party  to  the  dialogue  would  lift 
her  shoulders;  and  the  men  were  as  guarded  as  the 
women  in  their  references  to  the  notorious  Mrs.  Wim- 
pole.  Those  who  incurred  her  enmity  were  dropped 
or  frowned  upon  by  people  in  high  places,  and  she 
was  accordingly  a  welcome  guest  of  women  of  the 
strictest  virtue.  Again,  wherever  she  went  a  "cer- 
tain set "  followed  her ;  moreover  she  was  very  suc- 
cessful in  "discovering"  people  who  were  able  and 
willing  to  spend  their  money  upon  the  gay  crowd.  In 
recent  years  she  had  handed  over  to  the  latter  a  com- 
pany promoter,  an  upholsterer,  a  grocer,  and  a  dealer 
in  manure,  true  Britons  all  of  them,  who  owed  their 
[204] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


success  to  their  habit  of  early  rising,  to  their  sobriety, 
and  to  their  having  taken  to  heart  the  lessons  of  the 
Bible.  Two  of  them  had  subsequently  smashed  and 
their  pieces  had  been  flung  into  the  sewer,  but  they  had 
all  served  their  turn  and  helped  to  entertain  the  crowd 
and  to  pay  Mrs.  Wimpole's  debts.  Despite  her  child- 
ish prattle  the  lady  was  very  shrewd  and  knew  how 
to  play  the  game  of  life ;  she  was  an  authority  upon 
horseflesh  and  finance;  she  cheated  only  when  she 
knew  that  it  was  safe  to  do  so ;  she  spent  other  peo- 
ple's money  in  charity,  wheedled  interviewers  and 
publicists,  and  was  held  up  to  the  admiration  of  the 
virtuous  British  public. 

A  fact  in  the  history  of  this  versatile  lady  is  that 
she  had  tried  to  inveigle  the  Duke  of  Oakham  into  an 
engagement  with  her,  and  would  probably  have  suc- 
ceeded had  not  his  Grace  transferred  his  regard  to  the 
brilliant  Eva  Fitzgower,  with  a  result  that  has  been 
chronicled.  Alec  had  at  one  time  contemplated  mar- 
riage with  her,  but  had  abandoned  the  idea  upon  dis- 
covering that  the  head  of  his  house,  the  Great  Lord 
Newark,  was  vehemently  opposed  to  the  match.  Mrs. 
Wimpole  was  aware  of  this  fact  (Alec  who  was  then  a 
green  youth  having  told  it  to  her),  and  also  that  Lord 
Newark's  opinion  of  her  had  been  largely  influenced 
by  his  daughter,  at  that  time  nineteen  years  old  but 
already  a  woman  of  the  world.  Moreover,  Eva  was  in 
the  habit  of  dropping  her  eyes  when  she  chanced  to 
meet  Mrs.  Wimpole.  All  this  occurred  prior  to  the 
opening  of  this  history,  but  it  lived  in  the  memory  of 
Mrs.  Wimpole,  whose  sentiments  towards  Eva  may  be 
[205] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


imagined.  The  hope  of  indulging  her  revenge  against 
the  girl  was  not  however  her  chief  motive  in  thrusting 
herself  upon  the  Marchioness :  this  was  the  hope  of 
inducing  the  little  widow  to  pay  her  debts  in  return 
for  her  act  of  "discovering  "  her  to  the  "smart "  world. 

One  day  in  early  spring,  twenty  months  after  the 
events  described  in  the  first  part  of  this  history,  Mrs. 
Wimpole  sat  in  her  boudoir  in  her  town  house  in  Park 
Lane.  The  colours  of  the  apartment  were  blue  and 
white,  and  it  contained  much  worthless  bric-^-brac, 
and  a  great  number  of  cheap  photographs  of  exalted 
personages  with  autograph  signatures.  The  room 
witnessed  to  a  lack  of  taste  on  the  part  of  its  owner, 
and  it  reeked  of  the  strong  scent  with  which  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  impregnating  her  person.  Her  ap- 
pearance was  decidedly  original  and  had  gained  for 
her  the  nickname  of  the  "Powder  Puff.*'  She  was 
short  and  plump,  with  tiny  features,  a  mouth  like  a 
button,  full  dimpled  cheeks,  a  milky  complexion,  and 
crisp  curly  hair  cut  short  at  the  back  and  dyed  gold. 
Her  eyes  were  grey,  very  clear,  very  bold  in  their 
glances,  and  the  single  eyeglass  that  she  wore  empha- 
sised the  impertinence  of  their  regard.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  white  teagown,  the  skirt  of  which  was 
cut  so  short  that  her  silk  stockings  were  visible  above 
the  ankle.  There  was  a  bacchanalian  grace  about  her 
movements,  but  any  lingering  doubt  that  could  be 
entertained  in  favour  of  her  modesty  was  settled  once 
and  for  all  by  her  manner  of  seating  herself. 

To  her  there  entered,  at  about  five  o'clock,  Lady 
Newark,  who  looked  like  an  overdressed  doll,  and 
[  206  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


who  came  forward  with  a  little  springing  step,  a  sort 
of  hop,  recently  acquired  in  imitation  of  her  friend. 

"They're  all  coming!"  she  exclaimed,  "or  nearly 
all.  I  have  the  list.  Here — here  it  is."  Saying 
which  she  handed  the  scroll  to  Mrs.  Wimpole,  who 
put  it  aside  in  order  to  kiss  her  visitor  and  help  her 
to  remove  her  hat  and  jacket. 

"  I  am  not  at  home  to  anyone  else  this  afternoon — 
so  that  we  shall  not  be  interrupted,"  said  the  hostess, 
and  she  motioned  her  companion  to  a  seat  upon  a 
divan,  took  a  chair  opposite  to  her,  and  inserted  the 
glass  in  her  eye.     "Any  ructions?  "  she  asked. 

"Er — er — yes." 

"Tell  me — do!  Tell  me  what  Lady  Caterham  said 
about  me." 

"I  scarcely  like  to,"  said  the  Marchioness ;  but  upon 
being  pressed  she  told  her  companion  that  she  had 
been  described  as  a  dangerous  and  unprincipled 
woman.  "Of  course  I  said  that  it  wasn't  true.  Then 
she  said  that  of  course  I  would  not  pursue  my 
acquaintance  with  you  now  that  I  knew  that  it  was 
against  her  wishes,  that  it  was  quite  impossible  that  a 
member  of  our  family  could  associate  with  you,  that 
she  was  absolutely  sure  that  I  would  never  depart 
from  the  traditions  of  the  Fitzgowers— just  what  Eva 
used  to  say." 

"And  did  you  promise  to  throw  me  over?  " 

"Of  course  I  didn't.     I — I — I  want  to  ask  you. 
You  said  once  that  you  had  no  religion  at  all,  that 
you  didn't  go  in  for  that  sort  of  thing ;  but  you  have 
no  special  feeling  against  Catholicism,  have  you?  " 
[207] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"None  whatever.  I  think  the  Catholic  services  are 
quite  too  lovely. " 

"  I  am  so  glad  because — because  I  led  her  to  think 
that  you — you  were  a  Catholic  and  that  Father  Mac- 
donald — I — I'm  afraid " 

"I  understand.  You  led  her  to  think  that  Father 
Macdonald  recommended  or  sanctioned  our  friend- 
ship." 

"I  hope  that  you  don't  mind? " 

"Mindt    Not  a  bit  of  it." 

"You  see  it  might  have  been  true.  Perhaps  you 
might  let  it  seem  as  though  it  weret  We  needn't  be 
afraid  of  Father  Macdonald,  for  I  asked  him  if  he 
knew  you,  and  he  said,  *  No ' ;  then  I  said  you  might 
be  going  to  become  a  Catholic,  and  he  said,  *  Let  us 
hope  she  will ' ;  then  I  asked  him  if  there  was  any 
wrong  in  our  becoming  friends  even  though  my  family 
objected  to  you,  and  he  said  *  Certainly  not. ' " 

This  was  uttered  in  such  an  artless,  innocent  man- 
ner that  Mrs.  Wimpole  had  difl&culty  in  restraining 
her  laughter.  "And  what  did  Lady  Caterham  say 
when  you  told  her  that  Father  Macdonald  recom- 
mended me  to  you?  " 

"  She  lost  her  temper  and  said  that  he  must  be  either 
a  knave  or  a  fool." 

"And  of  course  you  resented  that?  " 

"Naturally!  I  told  her  that  she  always  spoke 
against  him  to  me  and  tried  to  make  mischief  between 
us,  and  that  it  was  very  wrong  and  wicked  of  her.  I 
said  that  Father  Macdonald  was  a  holy  man,  and  you 
know  he  is,  my  dear  Louisa;  he's  a  saint.  And  I 
f  [208] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


said  that  I  was  going  to  remain  a  Catholic  in  spite  of 
her  and  the  Bishop.  I  was  very  much  excited,  and  I 
went  on  a  good  deal  about  religion." 

"And  what  was  the  upshot  of  it  all?  " 

"She  went  away  in  a  huff." 

"But  of  course  she  came  back  again?  " 

"Yes,  she  called  again  the  next  day,  but  she  was 
much  calmer  and  tried  to  persuade  and  coax  me. 
When  that  failed  she  cried." 

"Lady  Caterham  cried?  That  hard,  weather-beaten 
old  woman  cried?  " 

"Yes,  and  you  never  saw  such  a  sight!  Her  face 
was  awful;  it  frightened  me  and  I  ran  away." 

"Notnterally?" 

"Yes.  I  ran  out  of  the  room  and  into  my  boudoir. 
Some  minutes  later  she  followed  me  there,  and  then 
she  was  solemn.  She  said  that  she  was  an  old  woman 
in  poor  health  who  had  lost  her  husband  and  most  of 
her  money  and  had  one  foot  in  the  grave.  Then  she 
begged  and  implored  me  to  give  you  up.  But  I  told 
her  that  I  must  obey  Father  Macdonald ;  that  it  would 
be  a  sin  if  I  didn't ;  that  she  couldn't  understand  it, 
not  being  a  Catholic.  Then  she  looked  at  me  in  a 
curious  sort  of  way,  as  though  I  was  much  smaller 
than  I  am,  if  you  understand  me,  much  smaller  and 
very  ugly;  and  then  she  went  away." 

"And  have  you  seen  her  since? " 

"Yes,  once  or  twice,  but  she  was  quite  nice  and 
ordinary,  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  She's 
coming  to  the  reception." 

"That's  all  'ri^ht."  Saying  which  Mrs.  Wimpole 
14       '  [  209  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


rose,  took  up  the  scroll  she  had  left  upon  a  table,  re- 
moved the  glass  from  her  eye,  and  muttered,  "  Yes, 
yes,  yes,"  as  she  pricked  off  the  names  with  her 
pencil.  Upon  coming  to  the  name  of  Eva  Fitzgower 
she  pronounced  the  name  and  looked  at  her  com- 
panion. 

"  I  had  to  ask  her, "  said  Lady  Newark. 

*' Of  course.  But  you  must  be  careful  not  to  get 
mixed  up  in  that  affair.  You  must  let  it  be  known 
that  you  thoroughly  disapprove  her  courses,  else  your 
name  may  be  compromised.  But  of  course  you  have 
already  done  sot " 

"  Oh  yes.  I  have  spoken  to  several  of  my  Catholic 
friends  about  the  matter.  I  have  told  them  that  I 
think  Eva  extremely  injudicious  and  foolish." 

"And  what  did  they  say  in  return?  " 

"  Very  little.  They  didn't  seem  to  like  it — I  mean 
they  wouldn't  talk  about  it." 

"Depend  upon  it,  they  think  the  more." 

"Well  no,  I  fancy  not.  I  don't  think  they  see  the 
danger.  They  have  a  great  belief  in  Monsignor  Van- 
celour.  And,  you  know,  I  really  think  he  is  a  very 
good  man. " 

"Of  course  he's  a  very  good  man,  and  very  attrac- 
tive, and  very  good-looking,  and  very  simple.  I  don't 
suppose  for  a  moment  that  he's  to  blame.  By-the-by, 
you  know  that  he  was  once  in  love  with  an  Austrian 
Archduchess!" 

"  No ! "  exclaimed  Lady  Newark,  as  though  the  fact 
were  discreditable  to  him. 

"  Yes.  He  loved  and  lost  and  then  became  a  priest : 
[210] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


that's  his  history.     Lady  Eva's  is  somewhat  similar. 
She  loved " 

"Loved!" 

"Why  yes;  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  never 
heard  of  it,  never  heard  of  the  Oakham  scandal  ?  It 
was  the  talk  of  a  season.  These  Fitzgowers  are  clever 
at  hushing  up  things !  She  was  engaged  to  the  Duke 
of  Oakham,  but  the  Fitzgowers  objected  to  the  match, 
for  the  man  was  a  very  black  sheep ;  on  discovering 
which  he  offered  to  release  her,  or  threw  her  over, 
or  tried  to.  But  she  stuck  to  him,  she  wouldn't  let 
him  go,  scandalous  person  though  he  was,  and  the 
end  of  the  matter  was  that  he  killed  himself  to  get 
rid  of  her." 

This  was  of  course  not  a  correct  account  of  the 
tragedy  that  had  darkened  Eva's  life,  but  it  was  ac- 
cepted as  such  by  the  Marchioness.  Even  the  truth 
would  have  surprised  and  possibly  shocked  her ;  as  it 
was,  her  amazement  and  indignation  rendered  her 
speechless.  At  length  she  burst  out :  "  And  it  was  she 
who  was  always  spying  upon  me,  glancing  at  me  re- 
proachfully, implying  that  I  was  not  to  be  trusted, 
dreading  that  I  should  bring  disgrace  and  discredit 
upon  the  family ! " 

Mrs.  Wimpole  regarded  the  speaker  through  her 
eyeglass,  and  inwardly  exclaimed,  "Well,  you  are  a 
simple  person!''  Aloud,  "Ah  well,  that  happened 
long  ago,"  she  said.  "I  don't  think  it  tells  against 
her  much;  she  couldn't  help  loving  the  man,  and  I 
don't  suppose  that  she  can  help  loving  the  priest,  or 
that  he  can  help  loving  her." 
[211] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"But  does  she  love  Monsignor,  and  does  he  love 
her?  "  asked  Lady  Newark,  who  really  did  not  believe 
in  the  existence  of  the  passion  on  either  side,  though, 
at  the  instigation  of  her  friend,  she  had  been  spread- 
ing rumours  of  it  among  her  friends  during  the  past 
few  weeks.  "For,  mind  you,  I  have  never  said  that 
they  did  love  each  other, "  explained  the  Marchioness. 
"I  have  only  said  I  hoj)e  that  they  donH  love  each 
other,  and  that  Eva  was  injudicious.  As  yon  said, 
we  must  do  what  we  can  to  avoid  scandal." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  agreed  the  other;  "and  we  must 
try  to  prevent  things  coming  to  a  crisis.  It  would  be 
a  very  shocking  thing  if  she  and  the  priest  were  to " 

"Oh,  it  would  be  dreadful ! "  exclaimed  the  March- 
ioness. 

"Then  there  are  the  Anti-Papal  Leaguers  who,  I  am 
afraid,  are  closing  round  the  poor  priest.  Your  rela- 
tion or  connection  by  marriage.  Colonel  Fitzgower,  is 
to  the  fore  among  them,  and  when  he  iinds  out  that 
his  own  niece — oh,  it  will  be  a  tremendous  scandal, 
dear  Lady  Newark,  and  you  mjist  do  your  utmost  to 
keep  out  of  it !  " 

They  discussed  the  matter  for  nearly  an  hour,  Mrs. 
Wimpole  advising  her  friend  to  continue  with  her 
efforts  to  arrest  the  scandal  by  pursuing  a  course  that 
had  originated  it. 

After  the  tea  was  brought  in  they  changed  the  sub- 
ject, and  considered  the  details  of  Lady  Newark's 
great  reception,  at  which  "all  the  world"  was  to  be 
present. 


[212] 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ZEALOT 

The  situation  afforded  rare  opportunities  to  the 
dealer  in  mischief ;  but,  that  it  may  be  understood,  it 
is  necessary  to  give  a  brief  account  of  Eva  Fitzgower 
and  some  other  characters  in  this  history  during  the 
months  that  witnessed  the  struggle  between  Lady 
Caterham  and  the  representatives  of  Eome  at  Tan- 
worth  Castle. 

Allusion  was  made  to  a  campaign  in  which  Eva  was 
engaged :  this  was  a  series  of  operations  conducted  on 
behalf  of  the  Church  of  Eome.  "If  I  were  a  Catholic 
I  should  be  a  tremendous  proselytiser ! "  she  had  ex- 
claimed before  she  entered  the  Eoman  communion, 
and  events  had  justified  her  statement.  Nor  should 
her  success  in  this  character  cause  surprise  if  the  cir- 
cumstances are  taken  into  account.  The  reigning 
beauty  of  three  seasons,  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
and  popular  nobleman,  she  had  retired  from  society 
upon  the  death  of  her  fianc6  and  lived  for  a  while  in 
magnificent  retirement.  She  had  been  much  missed. 
Indeed  a  certain  exalted  personage  had  more  than 
once  inquired  after  her.  "Where's  the  dark  beauty, 
Fitzgower?"  he  had  asked.  "Where's  the  dark 
beauty,  Mr.  Mortimer?"  both  these  gentlemen  being 
occasionally  honoured  by  the  notice  of  the  great  man. 
Upon  re-entering  society  with  her  aunt,  Lady  Cater- 
[213] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ham,  however,  her  manner  had  kept  people  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  so  far  as  was  possible  with  so  handsome  a 
girl  she  had  remained  in  the  background.  But  when 
she  joined  the  Eoman  Church  her  manner  changed 
completely,  she  recovered  her  good  spirits,  went 
everywhere,  as  the  saying  is,  with  her  old  kinswoman. 
Lady  Braintree,  and  laid  herself  out  to  please.  Her 
high  spirits  were  natural,  for  she  was  really  happy, 
but  she  was  neither  light-headed  nor  light-hearted, 
for  behind  her  looks,  acts,  and  speeches  there  was  the 
serious  purpose  of  winning  converts  to  Kome.  She 
found  a  considerable  number  of  people  interested  in 
the  Catholic  Church,  a  few  inclined  to  join  it,  many 
favourably  disposed  toward  it ;  and  amongst  these  she 
carried  on  her  propaganda.  She  persuaded  them  to 
visit  St.  Peter's,  and,  when  they  would  allow  it,  in- 
troduced them  to  Monsignor  Vancelour,  who,  though 
by  no  means  a  great  ecclesiastic,  realised  the  ideal 
Boman  priest  of  well-bred  English  people.  Her 
enthusiasm,  her  zeal,  her  burning  sincerity  of  faith 
were  contagious ;  she  left  no  stone  unturned  to  effect 
her  purpose ;  she  devoted  all  her  powers  to  this  one 
object.  The  Cause,  as  she  called  it,  exhorting,  persuad- 
ing everyone  with  whom  she  was  on  terms  of  friend- 
ship. She  revealed  glimpses  of  a  large,  kindly 
woman's  nature,  of  a  heart  full  of  sorrow  for  the 
scepticism  and  indifference  of  the  age ;  and  she  often 
succeeded  where  a  Newman  would  have  failed. 

On  the  whole  society  was  disposed  to  regard  her 
enthusiasm  for  the  Eoman  Church  with  tolerance, 
with  a  kindly  humour  not  unmixed  with  admiration. 
[214] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Grave  statesmeu,  dull  lawyers,  giddy  worldlings  were 
struck  by  the  singular  phenomenon  of  a  fashionable 
beauty  interesting  herself  in  their  spiritual  welfare ; 
they  not  only  forgave  her,  they  were  fascinated  by 
her.  But  of  course  she  made  many  enemies,  many 
very  bitter  enemies,  and  was  often  laughed  at  behind 
her  back  and  encouraged  in  a  spirit  of  jest  or  curios- 
ity. For  the  most  part,  however,  she  was  popular; 
"she  went  in  for  Eomanism"  just  as  another  woman 
"goes  in"  for  slumming,  another  for  palm-reading,  a 
third  for  skirt-dancing.  Curiously  enough,  she  was 
more  popular  in  general  than  in  Catholic  society ;  the 
old  Catholic  families  fought  shy  of  her  and  did  not 
like  her ;  this  was  especially  the  case  if  they  were  on 
visiting  terms  with  the  mistress  of  Tanworth.  But 
even  those  who  knew  not  Lady  Newark  showed  a  dis- 
position to  avoid  her ;  she  was  too  enthusiastic,  too 
stirring  a  person  to  please  them.  They  were  annoyed, 
moreover,  at  the  importance  assigned  to  her  by  Mon- 
signor  Vancelour;  they  thought  that  he  made  too 
much  of  her,  and  that  she  was  too  much  en  evidence 
at  St.  Peter's  Church.  Again,  she  had  dropped 
some  unfavourable  remarks  about  them  which  had 
reached  their  ears  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
Misses  ffennel.  These  ladies,  who  were  distinguished 
for  their  piety  and  love  of  scandal,  "  wanted  to  know  " 
many  things : — for  example,  why  Monsignor  never  had 
a  moment  to  spare  for  them  nowadays,  why  "the 
organ  always  played"  at  the  hour  of  sunset  when 
Lady  Eva  was  kneeling  before  the  altar  that  contained 
the  gorgeous  reredos,  why  she  allowed  Mr.  Mortimer 
[215] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


to  dance  attendance  upon  her,  and  allowed  herself  to 
be  seen  conversing  with  M.  de  Keramur.  On  the 
other  hand,  Lady  Parley,  the  lady  who  was  enjoying 
her  repentance,  "loved,"  "worshipped"  Eva,  Saint 
Eva,  as  she  called  her,  which  sounded  rather  curious, 
and  of  course  so  enthusiastic  a  convert  and  success- 
ful a  proselytiser  had  many  admirers  among  the  Cath- 
olic body. 

A  propos  of  admirers.  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  had 
fallen  in  love  with  Eva.  It  may  be  remembered  that 
he  was  a  man  of  lofty  principles  and  boorish  manners, 
something  of  a  saint  and  something  of  a  lout ;  that  he 
had  been  instrumental  in  the  "conversion"  of  Lady 
Newark,  and  that  this  had  brought  him  into  opposi- 
tion with  Eva.  Upon  meeting  the  girl  after  she  had 
joined  his  church,  however,  he  was  struck  by  her  fer- 
vour and  by  her  frank,  kind  manner  towards  him,  de- 
spite their  disagreement  in  the  past,  and  he  was  indig- 
nant with  Lady  Newark  and  "his  people"  for  their 
suspicious  attitude  towards  her.  Eeally  a  gallant  man 
in  his  own  curious  way,  he  was  disposed  to  constitute 
himself  her  champion,  and  went  about  singing  her 
praises.  His  regard  for  her  was  much  increased,  a 
little  later,  by  a  report  that  reached  him  through  the 
Misses  ffennel  that  Eva  "thought  infinitely  more 
highly  of  him  than  of  other  more  worldly-wise  men 
who  were  afraid  of  their  religion."  The  Misses  ffen- 
nel of  course  told  him  this  to  put  him  on  his  guard 
against  the  girl,  who,  they  hinted,  nourished  hopes; 
but  the  Baronet  ignored  the  hint.  It  occurred  to  him 
the  next  time  he  saw  Eva  that  she  was  a  very  hand- 
[216] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


some  person,  and  this  impression  increased  to  such 
an  extent  that  upon  reaching  home  one  day  he  pro- 
nounced her  name  to  his  poodle-dog,  Blackie,  and 
starved  the  brute  till  it  bowed  its  head.  A  week  or 
two  later  he  chanced  to  enter  St.  Peter's  Church  at 
the  hour  of  sunset  when  the  organ  was  being  played, 
and  Eva,  in  a  resplendent  toilette,  was  kneeling  in 
front  of  the  altar  that  contained  the  gorgeous  reredos. 
His  eyes  were  at  once  arrested,  but  he  did  not  identify 
her  till  he  had  taken  a  few  steps  up  the  nave,  when 
he  stopped  suddenly  and,  with  his  hand  upon  a  bench- 
head,  stood  gazing  at  her  as  though  she  were  a 
"vision."  What  struck  him  was  not  so  much  her 
beauty  of  face  and  form,  great  though  that  was,  as 
the  extraordinary  depth  of  feeling  portrayed  upon  her 
countenance.  She  seemed  to  be  pouring  out  her  soul 
in  love  of  the  Saviour,  whose  image  while  in  agony 
upon  the  cross  was  engraved  upon  the  reredos.  As 
he  stood  watching  her,  her  eyes  dropped  and  she  put 
her  handkerchief  up  to  them.  The  sight  profoundly 
moved  him,  and,  kneeling  upon  the  pavement  of  the 
nave,  he  prayed  that  God  would  accept  the  love-offer- 
ing of  this  holy  woman :  a  singular  petition  and  one 
that  could  not  have  sprung  from  the  heart  of  an  igno- 
ble man — ^for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  loved  a 
woman,  and  he  showed  it  by  praying  that  her  soul's 
desire  might  be  gratified.  His  code  forbade  him  to 
wait  for  her  outside  the  church  or  to  invent  pretexts 
for  calling  upon  her,  nor  would  he  allow  himself  to  visit 
St.  Peter's  again  for  the  purpose  of  spying  upon  her 
while  she  was  engaged  in  prayer;  but  every  day, 
[217] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


early  in  the  afternoon,  he  entered  the  church  and 
lighted  a  candle  before  the  altar  that  had  the  fine 
reredos,  and  this  symbolic  act  had  reference  to  the 
saintly  lady  with  the  wistful  eyes. 

But  though  he  loved  Eva,  Sir  Ealph  did  not  for  a 
long  while  entertain  the  hope  of  marrying  her;  he 
thought  that  she  was  destined  for  a  higher  state  than 
marriage  with  a  mere  human  being,  that  she  would 
become  the  "bride  of  Christ."  The  most  beautiful, 
the  most  accomplished,  the  sweetest  and  most  charm- 
ing of  the  ladies  of  his  house  took  the  veil,  and  he 
thought  that  Eva  would  do  so.  If,  however,  she  did 
not  become  a  nun,  and  the  weeks  and  months  passed 
and  she  remained  "in  the  world,"  he  intended  to  offer 
her  his  hand,  to  marry  her,  for  that  any  Catholic  lady 
would  refuse  him  did  not  cross  his  mind.  No  Catho- 
lic gentleman  in  England  had  better  blood  than  his, 
for,  though  only  a  baronet,  he  was  descended  on  the 
one  side  from  a  captain  in  the  Conqueror's  army  and 
on  the  other  from  a  line  of  kings.  He  was  also  a 
millionaire  and  possessed  no  land,  an  advantage  in 
these  days,  as  many  a  poor  Catholic  gentleman  could 
testify. 

An  important  rival  to  Mortimer  and  Ernest  de  Ker- 
amur  was  therefore  about  to  appear  upon  the  field. 
Both  these  latter  had  blood,  one  of  them  the  purest 
English  blood,  better  in  a  sense  than  Eva's  own,  but 
he  had  only  a  small  income,  perhaps  twelve  hundred 
a  year,  while  the  other  had  nothing  apart  from  what 
he  earned,  and  was  an  organist!  A  glimpse  into  the 
lady's  heart,  however,  would  have  revealed  the  fact 
[218] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


that  at  present  at  all  events  it  contained  no  masculine 
image  except  (it  is  said  with  reverence)  that  of  her 
Eedeemer ;  for  of  her  piety,  her  personal  love  in  this 
respect,  there  could  be  no  question.  But  she  was  very 
kind  and  agreeable  to  Mortimer,  and  rather  more  than 
that  to  Ernest,  to  whom  she  was  grateful.  She  might 
never  have  become  a  Catholic  but  for  him,  and  there- 
fore, as  she  would  have  said,  never  have  known 
happiness  and  never  have  attained  to  the  priceless 
privileges  that  she  now  enjoyed.  He  was  often  to  be 
seen  in  the  house  in  Eaton  Square  and  occasionally  in 
her  carriage  in  the  Park,  but  of  course  never  in  either 
place  unless  Lady  Braintree  was  present.  Still  the 
Misses  ffennel  were  not  satisfied,  and  wanted  to  know 
what  was  to  be  thought  of  a  young  woman  of  rank 
and  passable  looks  who  encouraged  the  attentions  of 
a  person  who  played  the  organ,  a  good-looking  fellow 
too.  They  spoke  of  the  matter  to  Monsignor  Yance- 
lour,  who  said,  "  Dear  me ! "  and  to  Father  Macdonald, 
who  turned  his  back  upon  them  without  saying  a 
word,  and  to  Father  Jones,  who  said,  "Bother!" 
These  ladies  were  also  aghast  at  Eva's  shameful  treat- 
ment of  Mr.  Mortimer,  whom  she  was  plainly  encour- 
aging in  order  to  bring  Sir  Ealph  to  the  point.  Once 
they  ventured  to  condole  with  the  gentleman  himself, 
upon  which  he  complained  of  ear-ache,  and,  quitting 
them,  gave  vent  to  language. 

Both  Mortimer  and  Ernest  were  of  use  to  Eva  in 

her  campaign.     She  was  no  theologian,  no  great  hand 

at  argument,  and  though,  to  be  sure,  the  religion  of 

most  people  is  chiefly  and  perhaps  rightly  an  affair  of 

[219] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


the  emotions,  still  her  potential  "converts"  occasion- 
ally put  questions  to  her  which  she  could  not  answer 
and  which  she  said  she  must  consider.  This  meant 
recourse  to  Mortimer,  who  was  one  of  the  cleverest 
young  fellows  in  the  Catholic  body,  and  who  answered 
them  for  her.  She  accordingly  rated  his  talents  some- 
what higher  than  she  had  done  in  the  old  days,  and 
admitted  that  he  was  something  more  than  a  con- 
noisseur of  Chippendale  and  Sheraton.  (She  never 
asked  him  for  news  from  Tanworth,  where  he  fre- 
quently paid  flying  visits,  never  mentioned  Lady 
Newark's  name,  and  rarely  alluded  to  Lady  Cater- 
ham. )  Her  manner  to  him  was  frank  and  sometimes 
charming,  but  Keramur  plainly  stood  higher  in  her 
regard,  and  his  musical  abilities  were  on  the  whole 
more  serviceable  to  her  than  Mortimer's  theology. 
Ernest  worked  wonders  with  that  box  of  whistles  of 
his ;  many  a  slim,  modest,  aristocratic  maiden  had  ad- 
vanced a  step  Eomewards  to  his  music ;  it  was  with 
the  organ,  moreover,  that  he  spoke  to  the  beautiful 
zealot  herself.  He  knew  how  to  reach  her  feelings,  to 
thrill  her,  and  he  enjoyed  the  consciousness  of  this 
intimacy  with  her,  this  participation,  as  it  were,  in 
her  most  emotional  thoughts. 

But  how  came  the  clergy  to  permit  the  lady  to 
"turn  on  "  the  organ  at  her  own  sweet  will,  for  such 
an  arrangement  is  unusual  in  Catholic  churches,  where 
the  laity  have  far  fewer  privileges  than  in  Protestant 
churches?  Many  people  besides  the  Misses  ffennel 
wanted  to  know  why  Monsignor  allowed  Eva  this  and 
other  privileges,  why  he  was  always  at  her  beck  and 
[220] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


call,  why  she  was  so  often  in  the  sacristy  and  in  the 
sanctuary  arranging  the  altar  decorations — why,  in 
short,  she  was  so  much  en  evidence.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Monsignor  Vancelour  was  for  a  long  while  car- 
ried away  by  the  tremendous  energy  and  enthusiasm 
of  his  convert,  and  regarded  her  as  a  heaven-sent  mis- 
sionary. What  she  had  told  him  about  herself  prior 
to  her  joining  the  Church  of  Eome  in  no  way  inter- 
fered with  this  view ;  she  had  been  a  worldling,  but 
she  had  done  with  the  world  and  given  herself  up  to  the 
work  of  winning  souls  for  Christ.  The  history  of  the 
Cliurch  abounds  in  characters  similar  to  hers,  so  far 
as  he  understood  it.  She  had  the  enthusiasm  and  the 
love  of  saints,  and  she  had  something  of  their  success ; 
she  led  into  his  presence  women,  ay,  and  men  too, 
who  admitted  that  they  had  never  regarded  religion 
seriously  until  she  had  called  their  attention  to  it; 
and  many  of  these  people — not  all — subsequently  be- 
came Catholics  and  remained  such.  At  every  meet- 
ing with  her  he  was  struck  afresh  by  her  extraordinary 
zeal.  And  was  he  to  restrain  her,  put  obstacles  in 
her  way,  clip  her  wings?  Heaven  forbid!  What  if 
he  did  grant  her  exceptional  privileges ;  she  was  an 
exceptional  woman ;  she  had  the  making  of  a  saint, 
if  she  were  not  already  one.  Her  speech  was  modest, 
she  was  obedient,  but  she  was  very  sensitive,  and 
occasionally  had  fits  of  despondency ;  at  the  hint  of 
adverse  criticism  she  would  be  cast  down  and  offer  to 
"change  everything,"  to  behave  like  other  people  who 
were  far  better  than  herself,  she  said,  and  thought, 
so  far  as  she  could  judge.  Such  radical  change  was 
[221] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


not  advisable,  he  would  tell  her,  but  a  little  more 
prudence,  a  little  more  discretion  would  not  be  amiss. 
For  after  all  he  did  try  to  restrain  her,  but  in  a  very 
gentle  way  and  so  far  as  a  commonplace  priest  had  the 
right  to  restrain  so  holy  a  woman. 

Curiously  enough  Father  Macdonald  did  not  regard 
her  as  a  saint,  nor  did  Father  Jones  ("Give  me  Jack- 
tars,"  said  this  former  resident  of  Wapping)  ;  nor  did 
many  of  the  prominent  Catholics  who  attended  St. 
Peter's  Church.  On  the  other  hand,  many  people 
besides  Keramur  and  Sir  Ealph  Vancelour  did  regard 
her  as  a  saint.  The  attitude  of  general  society  towards 
her  has  been  described.  She  was  amazing,  interest- 
ing, very  handsome,  and  when  she  liked  very  charm- 
ing; an  enthusiast,  perhaps  "with  a  bee  in  her 
bonnet."  Good?  Who  was  to  say?  Perhaps  very 
good  and  what  the  Eomanists  regard  as  a  saint ;  per- 
haps very  bad  and  what  the  Protestants  regard  as  a 
sinner ;  more  probably  neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 
Her  character  was  her  own  affair ;  her  propaganda  the 
affair  of  the  opposed  sects.  For  all  that,  society  was 
very  curious  regarding  her,  and  Dame  Gossip  whis- 
I>ered  with  her  ugly  sister  Slander. 


[222] 


CHAPTER  IV 

"the  world"  at  NEWARK  HOUSE 

Royalty  was  to  be  present  at  Lady  Newark's  recep- 
tion, and  many  of  the  ambassadors,  men  prominent 
in  politics,  in  the  services,  in  society,  a  sprinkling 
of  artistic  and  literary  celebrities,  and  the  wives  and 
one  or  two  of  the  daughters  of  all  save  the  last  named 
had  received  invitations. 

The  square  was  thronged  with  vehicles  on  their  way 
to  and  from  the  house,  and  on  either  side  of  the  gate- 
posts crowds  of  people  were  standing  on  tiptoe  and 
craning  their  necks  for  glimpses  of  the  distinguished 
guests.  The  scene  within  was  very  brilliant ;  the  hall 
presented  a  dazzling  spectacle  of  jewels,  feathers,  and 
satin  dresses;  exotics,  evergreens,  vast  quantities  of 
flowers  climbed  the  broad  staircase,  up  which  the 
splendidly  arrayed  figures  were  streaming. 

Royalty  came  earlier  than  had  been  expected,  was 
already  present,  it  was  whispered  in  the  hall.  The 
exalted  x>ersonage  was  indeed  at  that  moment  display- 
ing his  well-known  affability,  smiling  pleasantly,  say- 
ing a  word  or  two  and  occasionally  giving  his  hand  to 
his  friends  as  they  defiled  before  him.  There  was  no 
crowding  about  his  person,  and  none  of  the  mobbing 
and  pushing  and  struggling  that  are  often  to  be  wit- 
nessed and  felt  at  these  big  assemblies. 

"The  thing's  well  done,"  said  Mortimer  to  himself, 
[223] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


and  then,  "What  a  fine  race  we  are,  to  be  sure!  But 
how  the  women  eclipse  the  men  at  these  receptions ! " 
The  observation  was  suggested  by  the  fact  that  the 
ladies  were  so  much  more  prominent  than  the  mem- 
bers of  the  other  sex,  looked  bigger  and  stronger  and 
bolder,  far  the  finer  creatures.  The  men  were  no- 
where, so  to  speak;  hidden  behind  skirts,  bodices, 
tiaras,  waving  plumes.  The  ladies  reigned ;  but  their 
aggressiveness  was  only  apparent,  not  real,  and  ap- 
parent only  when  viewed  at  a  distance.  Their  speech 
was  anything  but  bold,  and  their  manners  were  gentle 
enough  when  observed  more  closely.  Mortimer  was 
struck  by  this,  and  asked  himself  whether  there  were 
any  women  in  the  civilized  world  better-mannered, 
more  agreeable,  and  less  brilliant  than  the  English  of 
his  class.  Meanwhile  he  steered  his  way  among  them, 
smiling  and  chatting,  till  he  caught  sight  of  Eva  Fitz- 
gower,  whereupon  he  stopped  and  stared  at  her.  Half 
a  minute  later  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  his  immediate 
neighbours  were  regarding  him  with  surprise,  and 
turning  sharply  round  he  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  the  Prince.  Luckily  the  eyes  of  the  great  man 
were  turned  in  the  direction  in  which  his  had  lately 
been ;  when  they  quitted  Eva  and  fell  upon  him,  Mor- 
timer had  the  honour  of  being  addressed. 

"Ah,  the  dark  beauty!  You're  related,  aren't 
you?  Where  has  she  been  hiding  herself t  Where 
has  she  been  hiding  herself? " 

Mortimer  explained  that  he  was  not  a  relative  but  a 
friend  of  the  lady  in  question,  and  that  she  had  sought 
retirement  after  the  death  of  her  father. 
[224] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Ah,  yes!  to  be  sure.  I  remember  about  it";  and 
then  the  speaker  suggested  that  Mortimer  might  bring 
the  lady  to  him. 

A  suggestion  coming  from  such  a  quarter  was  tan- 
tamount to  a  command,  and  the  young  man  instantly 
complied  with  it,  and  made  his  way  towards  Eva,  who 
was  standing  with  head  erect  and  in  an  attitude  such 
as  a  general  may  be  supposed  to  assume  when  survey- 
ing the  field  of  battle.  Dressed  in  deep  orange  satin 
and  with  her  black  hair  ablaze  with  diamonds,  she 
looked  superb,  radiant,  triumphant ;  but  even  as  Mor- 
timer drew  near  her,  her  expression  changed  and  that 
old  wistful  look  appeared  upon  her  face.  He  could 
guess  the  thought  that  sent  it  there :  "  Alas,  how  few 
of  these  people  belong  to  God's  Church!  Ah,  that  I 
could  convert  them  all ! " 

She  allowed  Mortimer  to  conduct  her  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  great  man,  and  the  next  minute  the  pair 
were  conversing  with  animation.  Mortimer  of  course 
quitted  them,  and  was  hailed  by  an  acquaintance.  Sir 
Charles  Leven,  a  judge  of  the  High  Court,  a  fat,  red- 
faced,  bald  man,  who  said  to  him,  "  Splendid  creature ! 
Splendid  creature !    Wonderful  arms  and  neck ! " 

Mortimer  winced.  He  reflected  that  all  the  four 
judges  known  to  him  were  admirers  of  the  fair  and  in 
the  habit  of  dilating  upon  their  charms  with  an  em- 
barrassing frankness.  Dreading  lest  his  interlocutor 
should  go  on  to  ask  him  how  much  he  imagined  the 
lady  weighed,  the  young  man  expressed  his  curiosity 
as  to  the  subject  that  she  and  the  Prince  were  dis- 
cussing. 

15  [  225  J 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"She's  trying  to  Eomanize  him!"  said  the  judge 
with  a  laugh.  "She's  quit©  up  to  it!  There  never 
was  such  a  woman ! " 

"Has  she  tried  to  convert  yout " 

"No.  I'm  too  old  and  naughty.  But  she  has  tried 
it  on  with  one  of  my  boys — Fred — you  know  him,  the 
pale  one  with  spectacles,  the  tame  one." 

"With  success?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  It's  Rome  or  Reason  with 
him,  I  believe.  We  had  to  keep  him  at  home,  he's 
so  seedy,  and  he  has  developed  views.  I  shall  have 
to  put  a  stop  to  it." 

"You  prefer  Reason  to  Rome?  Ah!  what  is  Rea- 
son, by-the-by?" 

"Ah,  well!  Fred's  a  very  clever  fellow,  to  do  him 
justice.  What's  Reason?  Well,  Reason's  nothing, 
I  believe." 

"And  of  course  you  prefer  that?  " 

"Naturally!" 

With  the  reflection  that  his  friend's  extra-judicial 
utterances  were  anything  but  brilliant,  Mortimer 
passed  on,  and  a  minute  later  was  paying  his  respects 
to  a  Mrs.  Arbuthnot,  a  very  frank  and  amiable  woman. 
"Your  cousin — is  it? — your  friend,  then,  is  wonderful! 
Amazing! "  exclaimed  the  lady.  "She's  not  content 
with  my  oldest  girl,  but  must  try  to  drag  the  other 
over,  and  it's  rather  awkward,  for  you  know  Julia's 
fiance  is  High  Church,  very  High  Church,  but  a  hater 
of  Rome.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  Mr.  Arbuthnot 
makes  matters  easier  for  her  by  inveighing  against  the 
Ritualists.  His  prospective  son-in-law  drives  him 
[226] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


mad,  frantic!  However,  he  was  very  angry  with 
Lady  Eva  and  told  her  so ;  but — well,  you  know  her 
way.  When  you  say  anything  that  isn't  kind  to  her 
she  looks  so  tragic,  so  beautiful,  and  pleads  with  those 
wonderful  eyes  of  hers,  and  no  man  can  resist  her. 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  told  me  afterwards  that  he  had  be- 
haved like  a  brute,  and  then,  if  you  please,  he  must 
go  and  apologise  to  her.  What  happened  at  that 
meeting  I  don't  know,  but  Mr.  Arbuthnot  said  yester- 
day :  *  Well,  after  all,  Eome's  the  real  thing.  It's  those 
Eitualist  fellows  I  can't  stand,  and  if  they're  to  have 
their  own  way  in  the  Church  I'll  go  over  myself  and 
take  you  with  me ! ' " 

"But  you  might  object?  " 

"11  Oh,  I  don't  think  it  matters  much !  But  I'm 
forgetting;  you're  a  Eomanist  yourself.  Eather  a 
pity,  isn't  it?  You  might  have  let  her  convert  you. 
.  .  .  You  know  this  lady  who's  approaching  us,  Mrs. 
Pelham,  the  little  woman  with  a  face  like  a  nun? 
Husband's  a  very  black  sheep,"  the  speaker  lowered 
her  voice.  "She's  one  of  your  friend's  converts. 
And  there'll  be  trouble  about  it.  Mrs.  Pelham's  a 
sort  of  lieutenant  of  Lady  Eva's ;  she  *  plants  seeds ' 
— I  believe  that's  the  phrase.  See !  Lady  Eva's  steer- 
ing her  way  towards  her.  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to 
hear  what  they're  saying!  But  there's  a  much  more 
serious  case  than  Mrs.  Pelham's— Lady  Anne's,  Lady 
Linlithgow's  daughter.  Terrible  woman  the  Countess, 
Scotch,  Presbyterian,  feeds  her  children  on  oatmeal — 
haggis  on  Sunday.  If  Anne  goes  over  they'll  turn 
her  out  of  doors.  Oh,  yes!  they  will — turn  her  out 
[227] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


neck  and  crop ;  sell  the  poor  thing's  clothes  and  give 
the  money  to  that  fund  they've  started  for  sending 
missionaries  to  Vienna  to  convert  the  heathen !  Now 
don't  look,  please,  please  don't  look  in  their  direction, 
but  Lady  Anne's  the  thin  willowy  girl  in  red  who's 
towering  over  the  Turkish  Ambassador,  and  trying  to 
make  out  what  he's  saying  to  her.  The  old  Countess 
would  far  sooner  that  her  daughter  turned  Mahomme- 
dan  and  went  into  a  harem — dear,  dear  me,  how  I'm 
running  on !    Come  and  see  us — do ! " 

A  little  later  Mortimer,  who  had  very  sharp  ears, 
overheard  Mrs.  Pelham  say  to  Eva:  "Lady  Anne  begs 
that  you  will  not  speak  to  her  this  evening.  She's 
having  a  dreadful  time — dreadful !  They  locked  her 
up  for  three  days.     She's  praying  for  strength ! " 

Mortimer  passed  on  with  a  very  grave  face,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  was  conversing  with  Lady  Cater- 
ham,  who  looked  haggard  and  ill.  She  told  him  that 
she  was  in  trouble,  and  when  he  had  expressed  his 
concern,  she  asked  him  to  escort  her  out  of  the  crowd 
into  the  French  room.  He  did  so,  and  when  they  had 
entered  the  charming  rococo  apartment  and  seated 
themselves,  she  said:  "You  have  always  been  so  good 
and  kind  to  my  family ;  we  look  upon  you  almost  as 
one  of  ourselves.  Now  can  you  help  me,  my  dear  fel- 
low?  Tanworth's  widow  has  always  confided  in  you." 

"But  she  doesn't  do  so  any  longer.  I  suspect  that 
Mrs.  Wimpole  has  run  her  pen  through  my  name.  I 
got  a  card  for  this  only  last  week,  and  when  Mrs. 
Wimpole  saw  me  half  an  hour  ago  she  looked  sur- 
prised. Lady  Newark  is  going  to  drop  me — gently." 
[228] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"She  told  me  that  Father  Macdonald  had  advised 
her  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  Mrs.  Wimpole.  But 
can  that  be  true!  " 

"It  isn't  at  aU  likely." 

"I  wish  that  you'd  find  out  for  me  if  it's 
true." 

Mortimer  made  no  reply  to  this,  and  she  asked, 
"You  will  help  me?  " 

"  I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  anything.  Alec  might 
help  you." 

"Alec?    How?" 

Mortimer  hummed  and  hesitated.  "That  stable — 
gees  shuffled — Moosmeyer's  stable  near  at  hand !  But 
really  I  don't  know  anything  except  what  Alec  has 
told  me.  There  have  been  some  strange  and  compli- 
cated transactions ;  there  often  are  when  women  share 
racing-stables  with  men." 

"WeU?" 

"Well,  it  occurred  to  me  that  Alec  might  threaten 
to  expose  her,  or  at  all  events  to  dissolve  partnership 
with  her,  unless  she  gives  Lady  Newark  up.  But  no, 
that  won't  do ;  she'll  get  more  money  by  sticking  to 
Lady  Newark  than  by  swindling  Alec." 

"Good  gracious!  Is  she  as  bad  as  that?"  asked 
Lady  Caterham,  whereupon  Mortimer  looked  at  her 
with  an  expression  that  signified :  "  If  you're  not  seri- 
ous, why  continue  the  conversation?  " 

"  There's  Father  Macdonald, "  she  observed.  "  He's 
a  strong  man  and  he  might  still  have  some  influence 
over  her — ^for  of  course  it's  not  true  that  he  recom- 
mended this  woman  to  her.  You  know  I  really  have 
[229] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


respect  of  a  sort  for  him.     Oh,  yes,  I  have!    I  am 
not  at  all  bigoted  against  priests." 

Mortimer  felt  inclined  to  say,  "Then  it's  a  pity  that 
you  attribute  dishonourable  motives  to  them. "  What 
he  did  say  was,  "Father  Macdonald's  influence  over 
her  has  all  but  gone." 

Lady  Caterham,  who  had  been  engaged  for  months 
and  months  in  the  attempt  to  destroy  the  said  influence, 
coloured.     "But  surely  he'U  try  to  win  her  back!  " 

"He  may."  '■ 

"  You — ^you — might " 

"No,  I  sha'n't,  whatever  it  is!"  he  mentally  ex- 
claimed. 

"You  might  drop  him  a  hint." 

"To  what  effect!" 

"That  she'll  slip  away  altogether  if  he  doesn't 
tighten  his  hold." 

"He  might  regard  such  a  hint  as — well,  as  rather 
unusual." 

"Unusual — yes;  but  he  would  be  glad  to  have  it. 
I  tell  you,  I  know  priests." 

"So  do  L" 

"And  whatever  they  are,  they  are  not  fools.  If 
Father  Macdonald  knew  what  Mrs.  Wimpole's  char- 
acter was,  you  may  depend  upon  it  that  he'd  hurry  to 
the  rescue.  He'd  stop  at  nothing,  he'd  force  his  way 
to  her ;  he'd — he'd  do  anything  to  effect  his  purpose. 
I  know  these  priests  and  they're  not  fools." 

"No;  but  at  the  same  time  they  are  not  knaves." 

"Knaves!    I  didn't  imply  that  they  were." 

"Pardon  me.    I  thought  you  did." 
[230] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Oh,  no!  They  get  all  the  money  they  can  out  of 
people " 

"Thieves,  then." 

At  that  she  gave  him  just  such  a  look  as  he  had 
recently  given  her;  it  seemed  to  say,  "If  you're  not 
serious  why  continue  the  conversation  ?  " 

But  unlike  her  he  did  not  want  to  continue  it,  be- 
cause he  knew  that  it  would  end  in  her  asking  him  to 
execute  some  ungrateful  commission. 

"Perhaps  you  might  try  Alec,"  she  suggested. 

"Yes;  advise  him  to  threaten  the  woman  with 
exposure." 

"But  surely  the  advice  would  come  better  from 
you." 

"He  runs  away  when  he  sees  me.  My  nephew  is  a 
moral  coward,"  said  she  in  a  little  burst  of  temper. 

At  this  point  they  heard  the  sound  of  voices  com- 
ing, as  Mortimer  knew,  from  an  alcove  at  the  head  of 
the  staircase.  On  his  way  to  the  French  room  he  had 
observed  that  this  alcove  was  not  provided  with  chairs 
nor  decorated  nor  specially  illumined,  that  the  guests 
were  therefore  not  expected  to  find  their  way  to  it. 
Of  course  they  were  at  liberty  to  do  so  if  they  chose, 
but  as  so  much  space  had  been  allotted  them  it  struck 
him  as  a  little  strange  that  the  owners  of  the  voices 
should  have  wandered  to  this  quarter  of  the  house. 
What  struck  him  as  much  more  strange  was  that  one 
of  the  voices,  Mrs.  Wimpole's,  was  pitched  so  high 
that  it  could  not  but  be  heard  in  the  room  in  which 
he  and  his  companion  were  seated. 
[231] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Not  wishing  to  overhear  what  she  had  to  say,  he 
rose  to  his  feet  with  the  intention  of  putting  the  door 
to ;  but  he  was  arrested  by  Lady  Caterham's  saying, 
"Leave  the  door  open." 

"But  we  can't  help  overhearing " 

"I  want  to  overhear." 

Mortimer  looked  at  her  with  surprise;  he  had 
known  her  in  the  days  when  she  was  apparently  the 
soul  of  honour,  a  typical  grande  dame,  and  though  her 
degeneration  had  now  been  a  process  of  years,  he  had 
not  thought  that  it  had  reduced  her  to  the  stage  at 
which  she  was  capable  of  listening  to  words  not  in- 
tended for  her  ears.  (A  minute  later  he  realised  that 
the  words  were  intended  to  reach  her  ears. ) 

"Then  you'll  kindly  pardon  me?  "  said  he,  moving 
towards  the  door. 

"Leave  it  open,"  she  called  after  him. 

Upon  emerging  from  the  room  he  espied  Mrs. 
Wimpole  and  a  small  group  of  her  admirers  in  the 
alcove.  The  lady  had  a  single  glass  inserted  in  her 
eye,  and  looked,  Mortimer  thought,  if  possible  more 
repulsive  than  usual.  But  that  was  not  the  impres- 
sion of  her  little  group  of  friends,  which  included  the 
heir  to  the  Linlithgow  peerage,  brother  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Lady  Anne. 

On  perceiving  Mortimer  Mrs.  "Wimpole  beckoned  to 
him,  and  much  against  his  inclination  he  joined  the 
group. 

"It's  the  prettiest  and  most  romantic  affair,  isn't  it, 
Mr.  Mortimer?" 

"Pardon  me?" 

[232] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"The  romance  of  St.  Peter's  Church.  The  setting 
is  so  effective  —  lovely  architecture,  lovely  altars, 
lovely  pictures,  lovely  music,  lovely  incense,  and  she 
quite  too  lovely  and  he  so  handsome !  You  see  they 
work  together  for  the  benefit  of  Mother  Church,  and 
each  is  intoxicated  with  the  holiness  of  the  other. 

And "    Here  the  speaker  took  the  glass  from  her 

eye,  lifted  up  her  face,  and  with  an  ecstatic  expres- 
sion presented  her  lips  to  an  imaginary  lover. 

Mortimer  turned  on  his  heel,  and  she  called  after 
him,  "Isn't  it  true,  Mr.  Mortimer? " 

At  that  he  halted,  his  face  white  with  anger. 
"No,"  said  he.     "It's  an  infamous  lie! " 

These  were  terrible  words  to  address  to  a  lady,  and 
the  moment  they  had  passed  his  lips  he  regretted 
them.  They  startled  Mrs.  Wimpole  and  her  friends, 
and  the  young  sprig  of  nobility  looked  as  though  he 
were  about  to  commit  an  assault  upon  the  speaker. 
Mortimer  was  unmolested,  however,  and  walked  away 
with  a  horrible  sense  that  he  had  disgraced  himself ; 
upon  mixing  again  in  the  crowd,  indeed,  he  felt  grate- 
ful to  the  people  who  saluted  or  addressed  him.  He 
was  a  more  conventional  man  than  he  imagined,  and 
his  act  of  publicly  accusing  a  woman  of  infamous 
lying  caused  him  more  humiliation  than  it  need  have 
done. 

"But  she  gets  upon  one's  nerves,"  he  inwardly 
complained.  "That  eyeglass!  Those  short  skirts! 
The  way  she  presented  her  lips!  Ugh!  Her  morals 
are  no  concern  of  mine,  but  her  manners — well, 
they're  no  concern  of  mine  either." 
[233] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


He  saw  little  of  his  hostess  during  the  evening,  but, 
so  far  as  his  observation  went,  her  demeanour  was 
unexceptionable;  nor  did  he  run  across  any  of  his 
co-religionists,  though  there  were  several  of  them 
present.  His  last  impression,  a  vivid  one,  was  that 
of  Lady  Caterham's  face  as  she  turned  it  towards 
him  after  bidding  adieu  to  the  Marchioness.  It  was 
so  full  of  trouble  and  apprehension  that  he  had  it  in 
his  heart  to  pity  her. 


[234] 


CHAPTEE  V 

monsignoe's  perplexity 

One  afternoon,  about  a  fortnight  after  Lady  New- 
ark's reception,  Monsignor  Yancelour  and  Father 
Macdonald  were  in  St.  Peter's  Church  inspecting  a 
reredos  that  had  recently  been  erected  in  one  of  the 
chapels,  when  they  espied  Eva  Fitzgower  approaching 
them. 

"Father,  here  comes  our  Bishop!"  said  Father 
Macdonald  to  his  Superior,  and  then  fled,  upon  which 
Monsignor  frowned  and  looked  troubled. 

Eva  drew  near  to  him  and  asked  if  he  could  spare 
her  a  few  minutes,  in  reply  to  which  he  motioned  her 
to  follow  him,  and  led  her  through  the  sacristy  into 
the  small  reception-room  in  the  presbytery  that  had 
witnessed  their  first  interview.  When  they  had  seated 
themselves  Eva  began,  "  I  am  troubled  about  one  of 
my  spiritual  children,''  and  then  stopped  on  observ- 
ing Monsignor's  expression. 

"Is  the  term  inadmissible!"  she  asked  with  a 
pained  look. 

"It  is  an  unusual  one  for  a  member  of  the  laity  to 
use." 

"Lady  Anne,  Lady  Linlithgow's  daughter,  is  being 

persecuted,  poor  thing!    I  met  her  at  Lady  Newark's 

reception,  and  she  sent  me  a  message  begging  that  I 

should  not  speak  to  her.     She  looked  so  sad,  so  thin, 

[  235  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


indeed  quite  ill ;  but  she  is  brave  and  will  obey  her 
conscience.  But  she  tells  me  that  after  her  conversion 
she  will  have  to  quit  her  home,  and  that  none  of  her 
relatives  will  receive  her.  They  are  terribly  bigoted 
Scotch  people.  Her  father  is  a  very  rich  man,  but 
she  has  very  little  money  of  her  own,  barely  enough 
to  live  upon." 

"  But  her  father  would  surely  make  her  an  allow- 
ance?" 

"Oh  no,  he  wouldn't;  and  as  it  was  I  who  set  the 
poor  girl  thinking  of  religious  matters,  it  seems  only 
right  that  I  should  help  her  a  little — with  money,  I 
mean.  But  she  must  not  know  of  it,  and  I  want  you 
to  arrange  the  matter  for  me.  I  have  much  more 
money  than  I  want." 

"No,"  returned  Monsignor.  "It  is  not  right  that 
you  should  support  her  or  help  to  support  her.  Per- 
haps her  parents  will  not  be  so  cruel  as  you  think ; 
if  they  are,  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  could  arrange  for 
her  to  live  in  comfort  with  one  of  the  ladies  of  the 
congregation." 

"Oh,  but  I  want  to  do  this,  Father!"  Eva  cried. 
"  I  want  to  help  my  poor  converts.  I  want  to  spend 
my  money  in  this  way,  but  I  cannot  do  so  without 
your  help,  or  rather,  I  don't  want  to  do  so  without  it. 
You  might  start  a  fund  for  the  purpose,  and  only  you 
and  I  need  know  that  I  was  supplying  the  money." 

Monsignor  shook  his  head.  "  You  want  your  money 
for  yourself,"  said  he  with  a  rapid  glance  at  her  toi- 
lette, which  certainly  must  have  been  very  expensive. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  she,  in  the  same  eager  tone.  "I 
[236] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


think  of  reducing  my  expenses.  My  aunt  would  give 
up  the  house  in  Eaton  Square  but  for  me,  and  the 
carriages  come  out  of  my  money.  But  I  don't  want 
the  carriages,  and  would  just  as  soon  live  in  a  flat. 
Then  I  spend  a  great  deal  of  money  upon  dress — 
much,  much  too  much!  I  have  thought  of  always 
wearing  the  same  kind  of  toilette,  as  nurses  and  nuns 
do,  something  very  plain  and  inexpensive.  I  have 
several  reasons  for  this.  I  don't  want  to  appear  a 
fashionable  person,  and  yet  of  course  I  must  go  every- 
where, for  my  mission  is  in  the  fashionable  world.  And 
then  I  should  like  it  to  be  understood  that — that — " 
she  paused  and  blushed — "that  I  have  dedicated  my- 
self to  Christ,  that  I  do  not  intend  to  marry,  I  mean. 
I  have  been  importuned,  worried,  made  unhappy,  and 
quite  unconsciously — God  knows ! — I  may  have  caused 
unhappiness  to  good  and  honourable  men. " 

It  seemed  that  the  priest  was  going  to  let  this  pass 
without  comment ;  but  after  a  pause  he  said  with  some 
effort:  "Of  course  this  is  a  matter  in  which  you  must 
obey  your  own  heart,  your  own  conscience,  in  which 
you  need  no  advice ;  at  the  same  time  I  may  remind 
you  that  matrimony  is  a  holy  state  and  ordained  by 
God." 

This  called  up  a  look  of  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment into  her  beautiful  face.  "  But  I  could  not  do 
half  so  much  for  the  cause  if  I  were  married,"  said 
she  reproachfully.  "  My  husband  would  not  permit 
me  to  draw  so  much  attention  to  myself  and  indirectly 
to  him,  and  to  expose  myself  to  insult  and  humilia- 
tion," she  added,  raising  her  voice  indignantly. 
[237] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


The  priest  was  about  to  speak,  but  she  went  on: 
"But  I  shall  go  on  with  my  work  in  spite  of  what 
people  say  and  think.  The  Cause  will  make  no  prog- 
ress whatever  unless  we  summon  our  courage  and  are 
prepared  to  encounter  trouble.  The  majority  of  the 
English,  especially  those  who  have  no  religion  at  all, 
hate  the  Catholic  Church  and  those  who  push  her 
interests.  But  there  are  many,  many  people  well  dis- 
posed towards  her,  who  only  want  a  little  persua- 
sion and  encouragement  to  join  us.  The  difficulty  is 
to  get  at  them.  I  know  how  to  do  so — in  many  cases. 
I  have  far  more  power  in  this  resi)ect  than  I  should 
have  if  I  were  a  man.  And  I  intend  to  go  on  with 
my  mission  in  spite  of  the  insults  it  brings  upon  me. 
I  am  trying  at  present  to  welcome  the  insults,  to  be 
glad  to  have  to  bear  them,  but  I  haven't  reached  that 
stage  yet,  though  I  hope  to  do  so  by-and-by.  In  these 
days  women  have  great  power  if  they  would  only  use 
it;  but  they  are  cowards — cowards!  As  though  it 
matters  if  one  is  regarded  by  ordinary  worldlings  as 
unwomanly,  a  preaching  person,  a  fanatic, — people 
who  think  that  political  influence,  social  success,  and 
money  are  the  things  of  interest  and  importance ! " 

A  thing  of  interest  and  importance  is  the  individual 
character.  Monsignor  Vancelour  was  a  thoroughly 
dutiful  son  of  Eome,  and  of  course  desired  the  con- 
version of  souls  to  the  Catholic  Church ;  he  realised 
that  his  companion  was  working  with  great  success  in 
that  direction  and  respected  her  greatly  for  it,  thought 
her  a  saint ;  nevertheless  he  felt  a  very  strong  impulse 
to  advise  her  to  avoid  the  courses  that  brought  the 
[238] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


insults  upon  her  and  to  be  an  ordinary  person — in 
short,  to  cease  to  be  a  saint.  He  knew  that  he  was 
ridiculously  inconsistent,  and  felt  that  he  was  utterly 
unworthy  to  be  the  spiritual  adviser  of  such  a  lady  as 
his  companion.  Meanwhile  his  silence  was  rather  a 
damper  to  her  enthusiasm,  and  she  changed  the  sub- 
ject to  the  music  at  St.  Peter's  Church. 

"Don't  you  think  that  the  choir  might  be  enlarged, 
Father? '*  she  asked.  "I  spoke  to  M.  de  Keramur 
about  it  and  suggested  that  the  basses  were  weak." 

Monsignor  had  a  crow  to  pluck  with  her  about  this 
matter,  but  he  felt  strongly  disinclined  to  set  about 
the  process.  Still  he  had  promised  one  of  the  singers 
to  address  a  remonstrance  to  the  lady.  Accordingly 
he  began  timidly,  "  Mr.  Sprules " 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sprules,"  she  interrupted,  "Mr.  Sprules 
is  not  up  to  his  work  and  gives  M.  de  Keramur  no 
end  of  trouble." 

"Has  M.  de  Keramur  complained  about  him  to 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no !  but  I  take  a  great  interest  in  our  choir. 
Father.  It  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  anxiety.  As  for 
Mr.  Sprules,  I  think  that  he  is  in  need  of  a  repri- 
mand ;  it  would  be  a  pity  to  dismiss  him,  for  his  voice 
is  so  good.  My  complaint  against  him  is  that  he  is 
often  uncertain  of  his  part." 

The  priest's  face  wore  a  troubled  smile.  "  I  never 
felt  such  a  coward  in  my  life,  "he  thought.  Aloud 
he  said,  "When  you  have  any  complaints  to  make 
against  the  choir,  I  hope  that  you  will  address  them 

to  me  and  not " 

[239] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Certainly,  Father,"  she  interrupted.  "And,  mind 
you,  I  don't  advise  the  dismissal  of  Mr.  Sprules." 

"  It  would  be  M.  de  Keramur's  duty  to " 

"M.  de  Keramur  and  I  work  together." 

"Work  together!  Work  together !  Eeally!"  But 
it  would  have  been  cruel  to  continue,  for  the  blood 
had  rushed  to  her  face  and  a  very  penitent  look  ap- 
peared in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  so,  80  sorry  to  have  been  guilty  of  interfer- 
ence," she  said,  in  her  low,  grave  tones.  "I — I  do  not 
know  what  to  say.     I  am  so  grieved." 

"It  is  a  mere  trifle,"  he  reassured  her.  "Only  I 
hope  that  you  will  not  again  tell  one  of  the  singers 
that  he  must  take  his  music  home  and  study  his  part." 

Here  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Monsignor 
said  "Yes,"  and  a  man  put  his  head  into  the  room. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Father, "  he  began,  and  then 
stopped  on  observing  Eva. 

"Well,  Miller,  what  do  you  want!  " 

The  assistant  sacristan,  for  it  was  he,  looked  embar- 
rassed. "  I  only  want  to  know  if  I  am  to  change  the 
candles  and  altar  flowers  for  to-morrow's  Benedic- 
tion." 

"  No.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  a  lady — because  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower  said 
that  they  ought  to  be  changed,  and  ordered  me  to 
change  them." 

"I'll  let  you  know  before  to-morrow,"  said  Monsig- 
nor ;  and  when  the  sacristan  had  disappeared :  "  We 
must  try  not  to  hurt  Miller's  feelings,"  said  he.  "He 
is  such  a  good  fellow,  a  poor  clerk  with  a  large  fam- 
[240] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ily,  and  yet  he  will  not  accept  any  money  for  his  ser- 
vices to  the  church.  You  would  be  surprised  at  the 
thought  and  care  he  bestows  upon  the  decoration  of 
the  altars.  I  consider  myself  greatly  in  his  debt,  and 
when  I  disapprove  his  designs  I  suggest  rather  than 
order  that  they  shall  be  changed.  He's  amenable 
enough  if  he's  not  offended.  But  it's  a  mere  trifle,  a 
mere  trifle." 

The  last  words  were  uttered  in  response  to  the 
heart-rending  look  of  appeal  that  had  come  to  Eva's 
face.  Her  expression  implored  him  not  to  go  on  with 
his  indirect  reproof .  "It  is  always  so,  Father,"  she 
said  at  length.  "  All  through  my  life  I  have  made 
mistakes,  acted  foolishly,  done  unwarrantable  things. 
There  seems  a  fatality  about  it.  I  often  tell  myself 
that  for  the  future  I  shall  do  nothing  out  of  the  way 
or  strange,  but  it's  no  use;  some  enthusiasm  takes 
hold  of  me  and  pushes  me  along.  I  now  realise  that 
I  had  no  right  whatever  to  speak  as  I  did  to  Mr. 
Sprules  and  to  Mr.  Miller,  but — but — oh,  but  I  am  so 
immensely  interested  in  the  choir  and  in  everything 
relating  to  the  church !  I  wish  I  could  perform  the 
music  myself,"  she  went  on.  "  I  should  put  my  heart 
and  soul  into  it.  The  idea  that  a  man  should  sing 
false  notes  through  lack  of  care  or  practice  makes 
me — ^makes  me  mad !  But  I  can't  bear  to  hurt  any- 
body's feelings.  Is  there  a  Mrs.  Sprules!  There  isf 
Then  do  tell  me  where  she  lives ;  do  let  me  help  her ! " 

Monsignor  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  Mr.  Sprules  has  a  splendid  voice,  deep,  rich, 
a  real  bass,  and  he  seems  a  good  fellow,  too.  I  have 
16  [  241  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


no  doubt  that  he  has  to  work  very  hard,  poor  man — 
but  the  choir  mustn't  suffer.  You  will  kindly  con- 
sider my  suggestion  of  a  fund  for  our  poor  converts  I 
Thank  you  so  much."  Saying  which  she  rose,  and  ac- 
companied by  the  priest  quitted  the  room. 

As  she  was  stepping  into  her  carriage  she  caught 
sight  of  a  little  man,  whom  she  fancied  she  had  seen 
frequently  of  late ;  but  she  forgot  about  him  the  next 
minute. 

Upon  returning  to  his  room  Monsignor  meditated 
upon  his  "convert."  Despite  her  interference  in  the 
management  of  the  church,  he  still  held  the  idea  that 
she  was  a  saint;  the  qualities  she  exhibited  bore  a 
striking  resemblance  to  those  attributed  to  many  can- 
onised women,  and  if  she  had  failings  so  had  the  latter, 
and  failings  of  a  similar  kind.  She  was  extravagant, 
reckless  of  the  opinion  of  the  world,  now  high-spirited, 
now  depressed,  as  they  had  been ;  and  like  them  she 
was  generous,  sincere,  intensely  pious,  passionately 
devoted  to  the  Church,  and  ready  to  encounter  perse- 
cution, to  die  if  need  be,  for  her  religion.  Now  that 
could  be  said  of  few  women  in  our  days,  he  reflected. 
And  yet  he  had  to  admit  that  she  jarred  upon  him, 
that,  to  be  frank,  he  did  not  quite  like  her.  Her 
intensity,  her  feverish  activity  disturbed  his  quiet, 
placid  nature,  and  even  the  qualities  she  shared  with 
him,  love  of  art  and  sensibility  to  the  attraction,  the 
glamour  of  Eome,  she  carried  to  such  an  excess  that 
he  recoiled  from  them,  distrusted  them  in  himself. 
He  often  thought  that  were  he  a  layman  and  her 
father,  say,  or  her  brother,  he  would  have  persuaded 
[242] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


her  to  abandon  her  present  courses,  for  he  held  the 
idea  that  women  should  not  make  themselves  too 
prominent — ^above  all,  should  not  expose  themselves 
to  insults  and  humiliations.  "Why  not  say  at  once 
that  I  have  no  appreciation  for  sanctity,  that  I  like 
saints  no  more  than  the  man  in  the  street  likes  them, 
that  I  am  unworthy  of  my  ofi&ce,  that  I  am  but  a 
worldling?"  he  asked  himself  bitterly.  But  here  he 
did  himself  an  injustice;  he  was  not  a  worldling,  and 
he  was  not  an  unworthy  priest;  he  was  a  typical  Eng- 
lish gentleman  who  had  taken  Eoman  orders ;  and  if 
the  qualities  of  a  Francis  of  Assisi,  of  a  Thomas 
Aquinas,  of  an  Ignatius  Loyola  had  been  denied  him, 
he  fulfilled  his  religious  duties  conscientiously  and 
with  due  fervour.  His  success,  his  reputation  in  the 
outer  world,  his  prominence  were  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  realised  the  type  of  Catholic  priest  that  was  most 
acceptable  to  his  compatriots,  and  to  the  facts  that 
he  was  handsome,  well-born,  and  agreeable. 

As  a  mian,  then,  he  did  not  quite  like  Eva,  as  a 
priest  he  could  not  but  admire  her ;  but  the  important 
point  was  not  his  feelings  towards  her  but  the  kind  of 
advice  he  should  give  her ;  and  upon  that  he  had  no 
doubt  whatever.  It  was  his  duty  to  encourage  her, 
to  back  her  up,  to  recommend  higher  and  higher 
flights.  In  the  recent  interview  he  had  very  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  failed  in  this  duty,  but  he  had  been  off 
his  guard ;  in  future  that  would  not  happen.  To  test 
the  strength  and  sincerity  of  his  resolution,  he  imag- 
ined her  drummed  out  of  society,  disowned  by  her 
people,  yelled  at  and  pelted  by  the  rabble,  an  outcast 
[243] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


flying  to  him  for  advice.  He  reflected  that  he  him- 
self would  be  protected,  that  he  was  a  man,  and  that 
to  tell  a  woman  in  such  straits  to  persevere  would  be 
cowardly  and  cruel.  But  he  was  imagining  a  state  of 
things  that  would  probably  not  happen!  True,  but 
it,  or  something  like  it,  conceivably  might  happen; 
and  if  it  did!  He  pondered  the  question  for  some 
time,  and  then  took  a  course  that  any  Christian  would 
approve :  put  the  case  to  his  Maker,  knelt  down  and 
prayed  to  God  for  enlightenment  and  help. 

On  arising  from  his  knees  he  thought  himself  en- 
titled to  a  little  diversion,  and  sent  for  Father  Jones, 
his  junior  assistant  priest,  who  soon  appeared. 

"Jones,"  said  he,  "tell  me  about  your  jack-tars. 
Some  of  them  were  fresh  one  Saturday  night,  weren't 
they!" 

"  They  were, "  Father  Jones  replied,  and  then  ran  on 
for  a  time  about  his  late  penitents,  speaking  with  the 
strong  Hibernian  accent  that  he  had  acquired  at  such 
pains.  His  sailors  were  not  saints,  but  they  were, 
according  to  him,  very  good  fellows ;  they  would  seem 
to  have  been  fresh  pretty  often,  quaint  in  their  lan- 
guage, and  irregular  in  other  respects ;  but  for  all  that 
he  declared  that  they  were  the  best  men  on  God's 
earth.  He  abounded  in  anecdotes  which  scarcely  bore 
out  that  contention,  and  then  began  to  inveigh  against 
the  "other  sort,"  "swells,"  he  called  them.  For 
"swells"  he  had  an  unbounded  contempt;  hatred  of 
"swells  "  was  his  besetting  sin,  and  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  saying  ten  paters  and  ten  aves  every  day  as  a  pen- 
ance for  having  wished  that  all  kinds  of  misfortunes 
[244] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


might  overtake  the  "swells."  It  appeared,  further- 
more, that  he  regarded  the  English  as  a  hypocritical 
and  un-Christlike  race,  and  therefore  a  great  contrast 
to  the  Irish ;  in  short,  he  pronounced  some  very  curi- 
ous opinions  and  succeeded  in  amusing  his  harassed 
Superior. 

When  Monsignor  had  tired  of  him,  he  said,  "Now 
I'm  going  to  take  Macdonald  as  an  antidote,"  and 
thereupon  sought  the  Scotchman,  who  was  in  his  study 
engaged  upon  a  work  dealing  with  St.  Teresa. 

" Is  the  book  getting  on  satisfactorily?"  asked  the 
Eector,  and  when  his  companion  had  replied  in  the 
affirmative :  "  I  hope  that  you  are  calling  due  attention 
to  her  judiciousness,  Macdonald,  her  shrewdness,  her 
humour.     She  was  a  woman  of  considerable  humour." 

"She  appears  to  have  been  a  bit  of  a  fanatic,"  said 
Macdonald,  stroking  his  chin  and  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling. 

"She  must  have  given  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  the 
clergy  of  her  day." 

"Oh,  no  doubt!  I  wonder  they  didn't  accuse  her 
of  heresy — ^if  they  didn't." 

"  Women  of  highly  strung  religious  temperaments 
are  occasionally  rather  difficult  to  direct." 

"They  should  be  put  into  strait- waistcoats." 

"But  seriously,  Macdonald,  emotional  women " 

"Emotional  women  run  into  all  manners  of  ex- 
cesses." 

"But  if  their  emotions  take  a  religious  turn?  " 

"  Ah! "  cried  Macdonald,  rising  to  his  feet.  "I  see 
what's  happened.  Father!  Now  don't  deny  it,"  said 
[245] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


he,  pointing  his  finger  at  his  Superior.  "You  have 
been  reading  [my  *  Objective  Worship '  and  been  con- 
verted from  the  error  of  your  ways. " 

"The  book  is  at  my  bed-head,  but  I  have  not  been 
troubled  with  insomnia." 

They  were  fond  of  bantering  each  other ;  indeed, 
the  habit  is  common  among  Catholic  priests,  who  for 
the  most  part  are  merry  and  good-humoured  when  in 
one  another's  company. 

But  Monsignor  became  serious.  "It  is  a  difficult 
and  delicate  task  to  direct  the  course  of  a  saint,"  he 
observed. 

"  You  mean  a  man,  of  course  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"No,  a  woman." 

Father  Macdonald  looked  as  though  he  disbelieved 
in  the  existence  of  such  a  creature.  "A  woman 
saint,"  said  he.  "Difficult  and  delicate  task;  you 
mean  troublesome.  You  mean  the  woman  who  enjoys 
the  consciousness  of  her  sanctity,  who  regards  her 
religion  as  a  luxury  and  revels  in  it,  so  to  speak,  who 
spends  hours  upon  her  knees  while  her  daughters  are 
playing  in  the  gutter  or  flirting  in  the  ball-room,  and 
thinks  of  herself  only.  No ;  it  isn't  difficult  to  direct 
the  course  of  such  a  saint  as  that.  Tell  her  to  spend 
less  time  in  church  and  more  time  in  her  home." 

"But  that's  not  the  kind  of  saint  I  mean." 

"Then  do  you  mean  the  saint  who  fills  her  pocket 
with  dust  from  Knock  and  bids  her  Protestant  friend 
wear  a  scapular,  and  then  asks  her  why  the  Browns' 
child  bears  such  a  striking  resemblance  to  Mr.  Smith! 
No?  Then  you  must  mean  the  priest-badgerer,  the 
[246] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


pious  lady  who  is  scandalised  because  Father  A  gives 
her  such  short  penances  and  Father  B  doesn't  fast  and 
Father  C  says  his  Mass  so  quickly,  who  goes  to  con- 
fession every  other  day  and  remains  in  the  box  for  an 
hour  accusing  herself  of  her  virtues.  No  ?  Then  per- 
haps you  mean  the  saint  who  visited  Eome  in  the  old 
days  and  won't  say  what  went  on  there  lest  her  Protes- 
tant friends  should  think.  No?  Is  it  possible  that 
she  is  the  lady  who  is  always  hanging  about  the  church 
and  sacristy  and  the  room  of  her  private  chaplain  in 
the  country,  who  darns  his  socks  and  dusts  his  books, 
and  ends  by  persuading  him  to  quit  the  errors  of  Eome 
and  embrace  an  interesting  ethical  system  ?  " 

"Upon  my  word,  Macdonald,  you  are  very  merry 
to-day." 

"I  have  been  reading  the  letters  of  St.  Teresa. 
"Well,  your  saint?    Not  a  musical  person,  I  hope." 

"She's  a  lady  who  has  every  worldly  advantage, 
who  devotes  herself  to  a  work " 

"A  work  approved  by  Eome?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  disapproved  by  the  world?  " 

"Certainly." 

"  A  holy  work,  then.     Well  ?  " 

"I  was  only  wondering  how  far  one  ought  to  en- 
courage her  to  persevere  in  the  work." 

"As  far  as  possible,  of  course." 

"  But  it  involves  her  in  difficulties  and  exposes  her 
to  insults  and  humiliations." 

"So  much  the  better." 

"Eh?" 

[247] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"I  mean  that  the  difficulties  and  humiliations  will 
put  her  sanctity  to  the  test." 

"True." 

"Where  does  your  difficulty  come  in?  " 

"E-r.  I  can't  remember  for  the  moment.  I  must 
have  forgotten  some  of  the  particulars." 


C2«] 


CHAPTEE  VI 

WOMEN  AND  WINE 

Fob  some  days  past  Mortimer  had  been  endeavour- 
ing to  obtain  speech  of  Alec  Fitzgower,  who  had  been 
sedulously  avoiding  him.  Not  in  obedience  to  Lady 
Caterham's  request,  but  in  his  anxiety  on  behalf  of 
Eva's  good  name,  Mortimer  intended  to  urge  Alec  to 
threaten  Mrs.  Wimpole  with  exposure  unless  she 
stopped  her  slanderous  tongue.  That  such  a  threat 
would  succeed  in  its  object  he  thought  probable,  but 
he  doubted  that  Alec  could  be  induced  to  make  it. 
He  knew  that  Fitzgower  was  annoyed  at  having  been 
swindled  by  his  partner  and  wished  to  escape  from 
her  toils,  but  that  he  would  have  the  courage  to  face 
a  stormy  interview  with  her  Mortimer  doubted. 
Meanwhile  the  Catholic  gentleman  had  been  given 
the  cold  shoulder  by  several  of  his  acquaintances  for 
having  publicly  accused  Mrs.  Wimpole  of  lying,  and 
he  thought  it  not  unlikely  that  Alec  would  adopt  a 
bullying  tone  with  him,  threaten  to  horsewhip  him, 
and  decline  to  discuss  the  other  question. 

The  young  men  chanced  to  meet  in  a  club  in  St. 
James's  Street,  whereupon  Alec  exclaimed,  "I'm  in 
an  awful  hurry." 

"■  You  can  spare  time  for  a  cigar, "  said  Mortimer, 
offering  him  one.  "I  have  been  looking  out  for  you 
[249] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


for  some  days  past.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  a 
difl&cult  and  a  delicate  matter " 

"Don't!  Don't !"  cried  his  interlocutor.  "I  have 
been  worried  enough  lately  by  my  two-year-olds. 
You  don't  keep  a  racing  stable,  thank  your  stars — 
share  one,  I  mean." 

"  If  I  did  share  one  it  would  be  with  a  member  of 
my  own  sex. " 

"Oh,  come!  she's  fairly  straight — for  a  woman. 
Ah,  by-the-by,  I  wonder  you  care  to  allude  to  her." 

"To  whom?" 

"To  my  friend,  Mrs.  Wimpole,  for  she  is  my 
friend,  you  must  remember  that.  Circumstances 
prevent  my  speaking  out " 

"What  circumstances,  and  what  do  you  mean  by 
speaking  out?" 

"Now  look  here,  Mortimer,  you  had  better  not  go 
on  with  this! "  cried  Alec  in  a  threatening  tone.  "It 
has  come  to  my  ears  that  you  grossly  insulted  this 
lady,  and  if  I  had  been  present  I  tell  you  frankly  that 
— that — well,  that  there  would  have  been  a  disturb- 
ance. However,  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I'U 
let  the  matter  drop." 

Mortimer  laughed,  whereupon  Alec  burst  out, 
"Though  when  a  man  insults  a  lady  he  deserves  to  be 
hammered  for  it.  You're  a  friend  of  my  people, 
else " 

"If  you  make  such  a  noise  the  waiters  will  overhear 
us.  As  you  say,  I  am  a  friend  of  your  people,  and 
it's  on  behalf  of  one  of  them  that  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you.     Your  cousin  Eva " 


[250] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"My  cousin  Eva!  My  cousin  Eva!  You  adopt  a 
confoundedly  familiar  tone  when  speaking  of  the 
ladies  of  my  family !  What  business  have  you  with 
my  cousin  Eva  ?  " 

"I  wish  to  protect  her  from  slander." 

"That  is  remarkably  kind  of  you,  but  she's  not  in 
need  of  your  protection." 

"She's  being  slandered  by  Mrs.  Wimpole,  whose 
mouth  you  ought  to  shut  if  you  can.  It's  not  a  bit  of 
use  your  pretending  to  be  angry  and  adopting  this 
hectoring,  bullying  tone  with  me.  You  know  the  sort 
of  woman  you  have  to  deal  with ;  you  know  that  she 
has  ample  motive  for  trying  to  damage  the  reputation 
of  your  cousin  Eva,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  my  friend 
Eva.  The  question  is.  Have  you  the  courage  to  go 
to  the  woman  and  tell  her  to  hold  her  tongue,  and 
threaten  that  if  she  doesn't  you'll  let  it  be  known 
that  she's  a  vulgar  cheat?  Don't  get  up ;  don't  pre- 
tend that  you're  going  to  assault  me ;  we  can't  fight 
here.  Light  your  cigar,  you  fire-eater,  and  think  the 
matter  over." 

Mortimer  was  of  course  perfectly  safe.  Alec  had 
no  intention  of  assaulting  him ;  he  simply  wanted  to 
cow  him  into  silence,  and  when  he  found  that  that 
was  impossible  he  apologised  in  a  boyish  fashion  for 
his  violence.  "But  you  know  I  must  protect  the 
woman,"  said  he. 

"Eva,  do  you  mean?"  ' 

"No;  Loo  Wimpole.     And  I  canH  threaten  her." 

"She  has  cheated  you.  You've  told  me  so  over  and 
over  again." 

[251] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Oh,  yes!  she's  a  jade;  but  you  mustn't  say  so,  or 
rather  not  in  public,  for  if  you  do  I  shall  have  to 
hammer  you.  You  see  I'm, — D — n  it,  man,  you're 
not  a  fool,  you  know  what  all  the  town  knows !  Don't 
you  see  that  I'm  in  an  infernally  awkward  position!  " 

"No." 

"Then  you  are  a  fool." 

"Possibly.  Let  me  see;  you  defray  the  expenses 
of  The  Nook,  Moosmeyer  the  expenses  of  the  house  in 
Park  Lane,  Jack  Carew  the  expenses  of  the  ward- 
robe  " 

"Ah!  you  little  Jesuit,  I  see  what  you're  driving 
at.  Mortimer,  I'll  throw  her  over,  I  take  my  oath  I 
will.  I'll  stamp  upon  her  if  she  doesn't  hold  her 
lying  tongue ! " 

"Very  well.  Tell  me  the  result.  Now  there's  an- 
other matter  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about.  Colonel 
Fitzgower  and  his  two  confederates,  Vincent  and  Gat- 
ling,  stand  in  need  of  the  services  of  a  lawyer;  they'll 
have  to  pay  thumping  damages  for  libel  by-and-by  if 
they're  not  more  careful.  You  might  drop  them  a 
hint  to  that  effect." 

"Good  old  Percy!  What  an  old  fool  it  is,  to  be 
sure!  Yes,  I'll  give  them  the  hint.  ShaU  we  drop 
into  the  Phrygian!  Oh!  I  forgot.  A  thousand  par- 
dons!   Bye!" 

On  the  following  afternoon  Alec  donned  riding 
breeches  and  boots,  armed  himself  with  a  cane,  and 
rode  up  Grosvenor  Street  to  Park  Lane.  Upon  reach- 
ing his  destination  he  left  his  horse  in  charge  of  a  boy 
with  the  warning  that  if  he  stirred  an  inch  the  brute 
[  252  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


■would  let  out  at  him  with  his  legs ;  rang  the  bell,  was 
told  that  Mrs.  Wimpole  was  within,  and  was  ushered 
into  her  boudoir.  He  entered  with  a  swaggering 
gait,  twirling  his  cane  and  looking  very  fierce,  on 
observing  which  the  lady  laughed  and  nodded  with 
approval.  "So  you've  caned  him?"  she  cried. 
"How  did  he  take  it?  Where  did  it  happen ?  Tell 
me  all  about  it — do ! " 

Alec  seated  himself  and  switched  his  gaiters. 

"Well,  tell  me  about  it,"  she  repeated. 

"Eh?  What?  There's  nothing  to  tell,"  said  he, 
switching  his  gaiters  more  violently. 

"Then  you  haven't  caned  him?  " 

"No,  I  haven't." 

"Perhaps  you  haven't  met  him?  Don't— don't  do 
that — it  gets  upon  my  nerves ! " 

"Met  him!     Oh,  yes!  I've  met  him." 

"Well?— Ah,  don't  do  that,  I  tell  you! " 

"Beg your  pardon,"  said  he,  putting  the  cane  aside. 
"I  can't  thrash  a  man  who  has  done  no  end  of  things 
for  my  people — an  honest  little  beggar,  too.  And — 
and — I've  got  a  crow  to  pluck  with  you.  I  don't 
want  you  to  talk  about  my  cousin,  Lady  Eva.  Leave 
her  out  of  your  romances,  please.  Of  course  you 
don't  mean  to  be  malicious " 

"Ah,  the  little  Jesuit! "  cried  Mrs.  Wimpole,  show- 
ing her  teeth.     "  He  got  out  of  it  in  that  way,  did  he  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  don't  mean  to  be  malicious, "  her 
interlocutor  repeated. 

"I  shouldn't  be  too  sure  of  that  if  I  were  you, ''said 
she,  fixing  the  glass  in  her  eye. 
[253] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Oh!  well,  in  that  case,"  he  began,  rising  from,  his 
seat. 

"Sit  down,"  said  she.  "I've  not  said  a  word 
against  Eva  except  that  she's  a  saint  and  romantic." 

"That's  just  the  point.     She  isn't  romantic." 

"  Oh !  but  pardon  me,  Nicky,  she  is  very  romantic, 
quite  too  romantic.  And  of  course  she's  always  run- 
ning in  and  out  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  but  she's  not 
to  blame  for  that  surely.  I  go  there  myself  often; 
it's  quite  too  lovely ;  and  I  come  away  feeling  so  so 
wicked  and  ready  to  cry.  It's  a  wicked  world,  Nicky, 
you  can't  deny  that." 

"Footle!  I  won't  have  any  more  nonsense  talked 
about  her.  If  it  pleases  her  to  make  people  Roman- 
ists, that's  her  own  concern.  No  one  need  turn  Eo- 
manist  who  doesn't  want  to.  I  would  sooner  that  she 
had  gone  in  for  something  else,  steeplechasing,  for 
example — you  never  saw  a  woman  with  such  a  seat 
and  such  powerful  wrists — but  she  has  gone  in  for 
this  religious  business.  But  just  understand  this, 
please :  I  won't  have  any  nonsense  talked  about  her. 
Hi,  there,  what  are  you  doing  !  " 

"I'm  going  to  ring  the  bell  and  have  you  turned 
out  of  the  house." 

"Oh,  bother!  Loo,  will  you  promise  not  to  talk 
about  my  cousin?  " 

"No,  I  won't!" 

A  minute  later   she  was  weeping;    putting    her 

plump  little  fist  in  her  eye  as  a  child  does.     She 

looked  a  child,  with  her  dimpled  milky-white  cheeks 

and  curly  head ;  few  on  beholding  her  at  that  moment 

[254] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


would  have  believed  that  she  was  an  utterly  depraved 
woman. 

Alec  was  terribly  distressed,  said  that  he  was  a 
brute,  swore  that  he  would  do  anything  on  earth  for 
her,  strangle  his  best  friend,  cane  Mortimer  to  death 
if  she  would  only  stop  crying. 

"I-it's  t-too  bad  n-now  of  all  times,"  she  sobbed, 
•"w-when   I'm   s-so   good,    b-b-building  a  c-church, 
s-subscribing  to  c-charities,    g-g-going  amongst  the 
p-poor ! " 

"  Eh  I  I've  heard  something  about  this, "  said  Alec. 
"Tell  me  some  more  about  it,  Loo,  and  dry  your  eyes, 
for  God's  sake ! " 

Upon  recovering  she  showed  him  a  copy  of  an 
illustrated  magazine  and  two  halfpenny  newspapers. 
The  former  contained  a  report  of  an  interview  with 
Mrs.  Wimpole,  her  portrait,  a  picture  of  the  church 
she  was  restoring,  and  a  description  of  the  admirable 
work  of  this  pious  and  philanthropic  lady.  The 
halfpenny  papers  also  recommended  her  to  the  notice 
of  the  virtuous  democracy.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
whenever  Mrs.  Wimpole  made  a  "discovery"  she 
launched  out  into  philanthropic  and  religious  under- 
takings, and  of  late  her  munificence  had  been  more 
marked  than  usual,  for  she  had  helped  herself  not 
only  to  Lady  Newark's  money  but  also  to  that  of  Mr. 
Nathan  Moosmeyer,  an  enormously  wealthy  Jew,  who 
owned  the  racing  stable  that  was  in  such  convenient 
proximity  to  Alec's. 

Well,  of  course  Fitzgower  regretted  his  unkindness 
towards  so  estimable  a  lady,  expressed  his  repentance 
[255] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


and  the  hope  that  their  relations  might  continue,  and 
gallantly  returned  the  salute  she  vouchsafed  him. 
Upon  mounting  his  horse  a  few  minutes  later,  how- 
ever, he  mentally  indulged  in  strong  language  at  her 
expense. 

"Now  for  my  old  fool  of  an  uncle,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing down  Grosvenor  Place.  "Mortimer  knows  what 
he's  talking  about.  It  would  be  extremely  awkward  if 
old  Percy  got  hauled  up  for  libeling  the  Papists  while 
Eva's  making  herself  so  prominent  amongst  them." 

Upon  reaching  his  kinsman's  rooms  in  Queen 
Anne's  Gate  he  was  told  that  the  Colonel  was  out,  but 
was  expected  to  return  in  a  short  while.  Alec  said 
that  he  would  wait,  and,  asking  the  servant  to  look 
after  his  horse,  entered  the  chief  sitting-room.  This 
apartment  showed  that  the  old  soldier  possessed  the 
collector's  taste.  It  abounded  in  dark  oak  pieces, 
bureaus,  settees,  cabinets,  some  of  them  Gothic,  some 
Eenaissance,  all  of  them  genuine  and  good  examples 
of  their  style  and  date.  Bronzes,  brasses,  breast- 
plates, swords,  scimitars,  and  daggers  rested  upon  the 
ledges  of  the  oak  pieces ;  a  divan  with  a  covering  of 
fine  old  tapestry  was  pushed  into  a  corner  of  the  room. 
Three  pictures  by  Greuze  in  heavy  Florentine  frames 
adorned  the  walls ;  pieces  of  embroidery,  old  ecclesi- 
astical vestments,  hangings  of  Oriental  manufacture 
were  spread  about  the  place,  and  a  magnificent  four- 
branched  chandelier  was  suspended  from  the  ceiling. 
The  room  was  as  full  as  an  old  curiosity  shop. 

"What  a  dingy  old  hole!"   was  Alec's  comment. 
"What  an  old  fool  it  is,  to  be  sure! " 
[256] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Well,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  Colonel  was  an 
old  fool,  and  his  confederates  were  if  possible  more 
foolish  than  himself.  They  were  ridiculous  persons 
and  defied  caricature.  They  arrived  at  the  house  in 
a  hansom,  the  Colonel  and  Vincent  springing  out  of 
the  vehicle  like  young  men.  Major  Gatling,  who  was 
their  senior  by  several  years,  had  to  be  helped  out 
carefully.  All  three  were  in  boisterous  spirits,  and 
had  evidently  been  partaking  of  what  they  called  the 
"beverage."  They  shouted  so  loud  that  Alec  could 
hear  their  remarks  the  moment  the  hall  door  was 
opened:  "Good  case,  that;  she'll  do!"  "Splendid 
eyes,  Irish  eyes."  "Gad,  what  iniquity!"  "The 
other  fellow's  their  great  preacher.  Murphy;  but  I 
don't  like  him  and  his  ethical  system.  Still  we  must 
work  him."  "I've  taken  in  the  girl  as  my  parlour- 
maid.    She  knows  a  thing  or  two  about  old  Grimsby ! " 

"Sots!"  muttered  Alec,  who  belonged  to  a  more 
sober  generation. 

However,  when  the  trio  appeared,  two  of  them 
looked  in  a  very  fit  condition,  the  Colonel  and  Ad- 
miral Vincent,  a  thick-set,  powerful  man  with  a  full 
grey  beard,  dressed  like  his  friend  in  a  tight-fitting 
frock  coat  and  varnished  boots.  Both  men  had  a 
high  colour.  As  for  Major  Gatling,  he  was  a  wreck 
to  look  at,  with  his  dull  eyes,  wrinkled  face,  and 
shrunken  frame,  but  there  was  fire  in  him  yet.  It  was 
he  who  was  exploiting  the  eloquent  ex-priest  and 
fierce  Ultramontane,  Murphy,  who  had  recently  es- 
poused his  housekeeper  and  with  her  renounced  the 
errors  of  Eome. 

17  [  267  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Alec  was  acquainted  with  Gatling  and  Vincent,  and 
after  the  introductory  greetings  Colonel  Fitzgower 
said  to  his  nephew,  "This  is  a  business  meeting,  but 
you  can  remain  if  you  like.  We  are  three  old  fellows 
and  are  occasionally  in  need  of  a  young  head." 
Thereupon  he  rang  the  bell,  and  a  man  brought  in  a 
couple  of  large  decanters  containing  the  "  beverage  " 
and  placed  them  upon  the  table. 

The  proceedings  were  begun  by  Major  Gatling,  who 
asked  the  Colonel  whether  he  had  succeeded  in  in- 
ducing any  of  the  Low  Church  or  Broad  Church  clergy 
to  join  the  Anti-Papal  League.  With  a  wry  face  the 
Colonel  replied  in  the  negative;  his  overtures  had, 
without  a  single  exception,  been  rejected. 

"And  a  good  job,  too!"  cried  the  Major.  "We 
don't  want  any  '  dodgers '  (he  meant  by  this  term  the 
clergymen  of  the  Established  Church)  on  the  League. 
I  thought  that  we  might  employ  'em  as  ferrets  to  clear 
the  land  of  the  Papist  rats,  but,  after  all,  I  think 
we're  better  without  'em." 

"Quite  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  but  he  spoke  in  a 
disappointed  tone. 

Major  Gatling  then  asked  Admiral  Vincent  whether 
his  overtures  to  the  Nonconformist  ministers  had  been 
accepted. 

"Only  by  one — the  man  who'll  be  here  in  a  few 
minutes.     But  he's  a  game  bird — Luard  Eobinson." 

"Well,  I  for  one  hate  the  'ranters,'"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"So  do  I.  They're  bounders,"  said  the  Major. 
"But  they  may  help  us." 

[  258  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Here  Vincent  caught  the  Colonel's  eye,  and  then 
pointed  at  the  decanters. 

"Eh?"  said  the  Colonel.  "Pat  'em  away,  do  you 
mean,  till  the  ranter's  gone?  " 

"Yes." 

"Rubbish!"  cried  the  Major;  and  the  decanters 
remained  upon  the  table. 

Dr.  Luard  Robinson  turned  up  in  due  course.  He 
was  a  grave,  learned  man,  highly  respected  by 
Churchmen  as  well  as  by  Nonconformists.  His  face 
wore  a  frown  while  Vincent  presented  the  Colonel  and 
the  Major  to  him ;  he  declared  himself  a  teetotaler 
when  asked  to  take  wine ;  and  then  he  sat  silent  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  is  about  to  say  something  that 
will  displease  his  companions.  "I  have  read  the 
numbers  of  your  journal  that  you  sent  to  me,"  said 
he  at  length,  addressing  Admiral  Vincent,  "and  I 
must  ask  you  to  remove  my  name  from  the  list  of 
contributors. " 

At  that  the  Colonel  and  the  Major  exchanged 
glances  and  then  looked  at  Vincent,  who  asked  hesi- 
tatingly, "What — what  is  it  you  disapprove?  " 

"  I  disapprove  your  veiled  attacks  upon  individuals. 
Your  journal  abounds  in  hints  against  the  personal 
characters  of  Catholic  clergymen,  Roman  and  Angli- 
can. I  hear  that  you  employ  spies  to  watch  promi- 
nent Romanists.  Had  I  known  this  I  should  not  have 
promised  to  write  for  you.  Other  information  con- 
cerning the  League  has  come  to  my  knowledge  that 
makes  it  out  of  the  question  that  I  should  be  associ- 
ated with  you." 

[269] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"But  surely  if  we're  to  attack  the  Papists  we  must 
hit  'em  where  we  can  hurt  'em,"  said  Catling. 

"You  can  expose  the  fallacy  of  their  teach- 
ing  " 

"The  fallacy  of  their  teaching  is  apparent  in  their 
lives, "  interrupted  Vincent. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  put  in  Gatling.  "We're  practi- 
cal men  addressing  a  practical  people.  The  Papists 
can  string  words  together  with  the  best  of  us.  What 
we've  got  to  do  is  to  show  'em  up.  We  want  to  bring 
things  to  a  head.  We're  frankly  No-Popery  men; 
we'd  revive  the  Penal  Laws  and  Old  Noll's  methods; 
we'd  have  the  mass  priests  locked  in  jail  or  kicked 
out  of  the  country.  You  have  no  idea,  sir,  of  the 
atrocities  practised  by  these  Papist  priests.  There's 
Cardinal  Grimsby,  for  instance " 

"I  would  sooner  not  hear,  thank  you,"  said  the 
minister  quietly.  "I  have  gathered  enough  about 
the  League  to  perceive  that  neither  I  nor  any  of  those 
who  think  with  me  can  be  associated  with  it. 
Whether  you  will  be  successful  in  obtaining  support 
from  the  Low  Church  party  I  know  not ;  but  I  can 
assure  you  that  Nonconformists  will  utterly  repudiate 
your  methods.  No  good  can  come  of  a  campaign  of 
scandal  and  detraction,  and  if  you  will  accept  advice 
from  a  man  who  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  cause 
of  Protestant  Christianity  you  will  abandon  your 
present  enterprise."  Saying  which  Dr.  Luard  Rob- 
inson rose,  bowed  stiffly  to  the  three  men  (Alec  had 
wandered  to  another  quarter  of  the  room  during  the 
colloquy),  and  took  his  departure. 
[260] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


There  ensued  a  long  silence,  during  which  the 
warriors  helped  themselves  to  wine. 

"  Well,  the  League  will  be  all  the  stronger  without 
'  dodgers '  or  '  ranters, '  "  said  Gatling  at  length. 
"  We'll  have  to  fight  the  battle  ourselves.  And  now 
let  us  get  to  business.  Balsam  will  be  here  in  a 
minute  or  two,  and  the  question  is  whether  that 
paragraph  about  Grimsby  is  to  go  into  the  Anti-Papist 
or  not." 

"I  say  not,"  cried  Vincent  emphatically. 

"And  I  say  not,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  If  legal  troubles  ensue  I  am  willing  to  stump  up 
the  money,"  observed  Gatling. 

"It  will  bring  ridicule  upon  us,"  the  Colonel 
objected. 

"Well,  I'm  for  bringing  things  to  a  crisis,"  said 
Gatling.  "I  have  my  proofs  and  witnesses  ready. 
I've  caught  old  Grimsby,  and  I  don't  intend  to  let 
him  go." 

"What  has  Cardinal  Grimsby  been  about!  "  asked 
Alec. 

"Well,  there's  a  case  of  infernal  cruelty  against 
him,  to  begin  with.  A  man  kept  in  a  seminary 
and  starved  into  submission.  There's  a  woman 
in  the  other  case.  She's  in  my  kitchen  at  present. 
Strapping  Welsh  girl.  Eescued  only  just  in 
time. " 

"No  one  will  believe  her  story,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"It  may  be  true,  but  I  should  doubt  it.     I  know  old 
Grimsby  and — No,  no,  Gatling,  it  isn't  true,  it  isn't 
true!    Grimsby  isn't  that  sort  of  man." 
[261] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"I  have  the  tale  from  the  wench's  own  lips,"  cried 
Major  Gatling,  lurching  forward  for  the  decanter. 
"And  the  man  Hughes  supports  her — I  have  made 
him  my  second  footman.  Old  Grimsby  isn't  the  tame 
brute  you  think  him.  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Fitz- 
gower,  and  you  too,  Vincent,  with  all  due  respect, 
you're  afraid  of  Grimsby,  a  wily  old  bird,  I  admit. 
Your  game's  easily  quarried,  Fitzgower.  Everybody 
knows  that  Vancelour's  a  libertine.  And  as  for  you, 
Vincent,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  had  far  better 
observe  what's  passing  under  your  nose  than  go 
trapesing  off  to  Italy  and  Spain.  As  though  any  one 
doubted  that  every  man-jack  in  those  God-foreaken 
countries  was  an  idle,  useless  skunk !  Pass  the  other 
decanter;  this  one's  empty." 

Gatling  filled  his  glass,  drained  it,  and  resumed: 
"No,  we  must  attack  the  enemy  here,  here  in  Eng- 
land. Grimsby's  my  bird,  and  I'll  bring  him  down 
if  it  cost  me  every  penny  I  possess.  I'm  an  old  sol- 
dier and  I've  fought  for  my  Queen  and  my  country. 
I'm  a  man  of  my  word.  When  I  say  a  thing  I  mean 
it.  The  potato-fed  bog-trotting  Irish  I  leave  to 
others;  the  degenerate  Southerners  may  be  good 
enough  for  you,  Vincent ;  I  go  for  the  free-born  Eng- 
lishman who  has  been  seduced  by  the  Romish  slut. 
I  go  for  Grimsby,  the  most  dangerous  of  the  lot.  I've 
warned  him  what  I'm  about,  mind  you.  He  knows 
who  I  am,  he  knows  the  man  he  has  to  deal  with.  I 
don't  brag  that  I'll  have  an  easy  job  of  it,  but  I'll 
turn  him  inside  out  for  the  benefit  of  my  country 
before  I've  done  with  him,  or  my  name's  not  Miles 
[  262  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Gatling."  Saying  which,  the  Major  filled  his  glass  for 
the  sixth  time. 

"Pity  he  can't  recognise  his  real  enemy,"  thought 
Alec. 

"  Ahem,  yes,  quite  so, "  said  the  Colonel  in  response 
to  the  above  harangue.  "Like  this? "  he  asked  Vin- 
cent, referring  to  the  wine. 

"Yes.     Got  much  of  it V 

"  Enough  to  last  me  out.  It  came  from  Tanworth. 
My  brother  left  it  to  me.  After  all,  we  old  fellows 
have  our  consolations,  Vincent.  I'm  afraid  poor 
(Catling  isn't  the  man  he  was.  Can't  attack  old 
Grimsby  on  those  lines.  Absurd,  d — d  absurd,  at  his 
age!  Ah,  Vincent!  we've  had  some  good  times  to- 
gether, but  the  pace  isn't  what  it  was,  old  man. 
There's  no  getting  over  that.  However,  we  oughtn't 
to  complain.  Remember  Paris  in  the  early  sixties? 
Poor  old  Emperor,  what  a  good-natured  creature  he 
was,  to  be  sure!     He  got  me  out  of  an  awkward 

scrape  one  day.     You  knew  her "    The  rest  of 

the  tale  was  told  in  a  whisper.  "Gatling's  gone  to 
sleep,"  he  resumed.  "Savage  old  chap,  isn't  he?  I 
don't  like  this  nephew  of  mine."  (Alec  was  walking 
about  the  room  inspecting  the  treasures  it  contained. ) 
"He's  disrespectful;  he  calls  me  old  Percy,  and  I 
don't  like  it.  He  takes  after  his  father  except  that 
he's  an  ass  in  money  matters ;  however,  that  doesn't 
matter,  for  he  came  in  for  William's  pUe,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  million.  Wild  doings  out  in  Australia 
in  those  days.  Have  some  more  port?  That's  right. 
After  all,  Vincent,  I  sometimes  think  we're  a  little 
[263] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


hard  on  these  poor  Romishers.  Suppose  that  they  do 
shake  a  loose  leg  now  and  again.  Boys  must  be  boys. 
.  .  .  Well,  what  is  it,  Jackson  I  " 

"Mr.  Balsam  has  called,  sir." 

"Balsam?  Oh,  bother!  Here,  Alec!  You  see 
Balsam,  there's  a  good  fellow.  He  has  come  about 
that  paragraph  in  the  Anti-Papist.  Tell  him  that  the 
paragraph  about  Grimsby  is  not  to  go  in.  He  can  fill 
up  the  space  with — let  me  see.  Oh,  yes!  he'll  find  a 
paper  in  my  desk  in  the  office.  Tell  him  to  look  for 
a  passage  I've  marked  with  a  red  i)encil.  It's  a  tale 
about  a  nun  and  a  gardener.  Tell  him  to  put  that  in 
the  Anti-Fapist.  If  it's  too  long  he  can  easily  cut  it 
down ;  if  too  short  he  can  add  spicy  details. " 

Alec  depai*ted  to  carry  out  these  instructions,  and 
the  Colonel  continued  with  his  reminiscences  of  the 
days  when  he  and  Vincent  prowled  about  the  capitals 
of  Europe  in  search  of  gallant  adventures. 

Vincent  only  put  in  a  word  here  and  there,  but  he 
enjoyed  the  reminiscences  as  much  as  his  friend  did, 
and  drank  more  than  his  share  of  the  wine.  The 
amount  of  port  this  old  sailor  could  put  away  with- 
out, apparently,  being  any  the  worse  for  it  was  aston- 
ishing, and  in  spite  of  his  potations  he  kept  his  tight- 
fitting  frock-coat  buttoned  and  sat  his  chair  as  upright 
as  a  youngster.  Gratling  was  asleep;  his  head  had 
fallen  forward,  his  face  was  of  a  purple  hue,  and  to 
judge  from  his  breathing  he  was  fighting  his  enemy 
in  his  sleep. 

After  about  ten  minutes'  absence  Alec  returned, 
approached  his  uncle,  and  said  in  a  heated  whisper, 
[264] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"You  had  better  pull  yourself  together  and  see  this 
animal."  Thereupon  the  pair  quitted  the  room  and 
entered  the  Colonel's  study. 

Mr.  Balsam  was  talking  to  himself  in  a  very  excited 
manner.  He  was  a  diminutive  man  with  sharp  features, 
a  high-pitched  voice,  and  a  ready  tongue.  Originally 
a  private-inquiry  agent,  he  had  turned  professional 
bigot,  and  in  this  capacity  had  been  recommended  to 
Major  Gatling,  who  had  appointed  him  sub -editor  of 
the  Anti- Papist  and  manager  of  the  shop  where  that 
journal  and  other  periodicals  of  a  similar  kind  were 
offered  for  sale.  "Can't  be  helped!  Can't  be 
helped,"  he  was  saying.  "Spafford's  to  blame  if  any 
one.     Not  my  fault  at  all  events." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?"  demanded  the  Colonel 
ungraciously.  "Hasn't  Spafford  discovered  any- 
thing?" 

"Nothing  for  certain,  but  indirect  evidence  cer- 
tainly points  to  an  affaire  du  cwur  between  Vancelour 
and — and " 

"Well,  and  whom?" 

"  Er — er,  I'm  sorry  to  say  with  a  relative  of  yours. 
Spafford's  nephew's  second  footman  to  Mrs.  Wimpole, 
and  he  declares  that  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower " 

"Hold  your  tongue  and  get  out! " 

"  Yes,  that's  exactly  what  I  expected.  I  hear  that 
the  Major's  in  this  place,  and  I  want  to  see  him, 
please." 

"You  had  better  go  away,"  said  Alec  quietly,  and 
he  placed  his  hand  on  Balsam's  shoulder. 

"That's  an  assault!"  cried  the  wee  man  fiercely. 
[265] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"That's  an  assault,  sir,  and  you'll  hear  more  about  it! 
I'm  not  going  to  be  bullied  in  this  way.  I  demand  to 
see  Major  Gatling." 

The  Colonel  consulted  his  nephew's  eye  and  then 
said,  "If  you  don't  quit  this  place  I'll  have  you 
ejected." 

"Oh,  you  wiU,  will  you?  The  moment  I  get  back 
to  the  office  I'll  write  an  account  of  this  scene  and 
post  it  on  to  the  Major.  You  wish  to  hush  the  thing 
up  now,  of  course ;  but  you'll  have  to  settle  with  the 
Major.  Oh,  yes!  I'm  going.  .  .  .  Very  well,  then, 
do  it!  Do  assault  me!  Now,  then!  So  you  think 
better  of  it !  Very  well,  then,  good-day  to  you,  gen- 
tlemen ! "  Saying  which  Mr.  Balsam  marched  noisily 
out  of  the  room. 

"You've  put  your  foot  in  it,"  observed  Alec  with  a 
sneer.  "You  insisted  upon  Spafford's  watching  the 
priest. " 

The  Colonel  dropped  his  eyes  and  pulled  at  his 
moustache.  "Alec,"  said  he,  "my  sister  mustn't 
know  of  this.  I'll  retire  from  the  League.  I'm  get- 
ting a  bit  sick  of  it.  You  see  the  sort  of  animal  I 
have  to  deal  with." 

"You  had  better  not  retire  at  present;  you  must 
remain  a  member  and  prevent  Gatling  and  this  crea- 
ture from  propagating  lies  about  Eva.  Oh,  they'll  do 
it!  Vincent's  all  right,  but  I  wouldn't  answer  for 
Gatling.  He's  a  monomaniac  and  ought  to  be  locked 
up.     He'll  go  off  pop  one  day,  that's  a  comfort ! " 

"Gatling's  a  soldier  and  wouldn't  dream  of  slander- 
ing a  kinswoman  of  mine." 

[  266  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Well,  you'll  see.  I  believe  that  he  is  anxious  to 
pick  a  quarrel  with  you ;  you're  not  extreme  enough 
for  him.  He  means  business ;  as  for  you  and  Vin- 
cent-—" The  young  man  waved  his  hand  contemp- 
tuously. 

"  You're  a  d — d  impertinent  puppy !  Ah !  by-the- 
by,  and  how  about  Loo  Wimpole?  Her  tongue's 
more  dangerous  than  Gatling's.  But  you've  thrown 
her  over,  of  course  ?  " 

"Well,  no,  I  haven't — not  exactly." 

"You  haven't?  You  haven't  thrown  over  the  jade 
who's  spreading  these  lies  about  poor  Eval  You're 
a  pretty  fellow,  you  are!  I've  no  patience  with  you 
idle  young  dogs.  By  the  time  I  was  your  age  I  had 
fought  in  a  couple  of  campaigns.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  now?     Blow  your  brains  out?  " 

"I'm  off!  Bye,  Uncle  Percy."  With  that  Alec 
quitted  his  angry  relative,  who  roared  out  an  oath 
after  him. 

Upon  the  following  day  Mortimer  called  in  Gros- 
venor  Street  to  learn  the  particulars  of  the  meeting 
between  Alec  and  Mrs.  Wimpole.  He  was  told  that 
Fitzgower  had  quitted  town  that  morning  and  was  not 
expected  back  for  months. 

"I  can't  say  I'm  surprised,"  thought  Mortimer, 
turning  his  steps  in  the  direction  of  Newark  House. 
"  I  have  called  many  times  upon  the  Marchioness  and 
been  refused  admittance,"  he  meditated;  "but  I'll 
make  one  more  attempt  to  see  her.  Till  recently  she 
was  wont  to  describe  me  as  her  only  friend." 

That  the  Marchioness  no  longer  regarded  him  in 
[267] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


that  light  was  proved  a  few  minutes  later.  He  was 
approaching  the  gate-posts  of  Newark  House  when 
a  yellow  barouche,  in  which  she  and  Mrs.  Wimpole 
were  seated,  drove  past  him ;  the  eyes  of  both  ladies 
were  turned  in  his  direction,  but  neither  gave  him  a 
sign  of  recognition. 


[268] 


CHAPTER    Vn 

"the  way  of  the  cross" 

Lady  Caterham  said  nothing  to  Eva  about  the 
slanderous  insinuations  she  had  overheard  at  Newark 
House,  lest  she  should  rouse  the  girl's  resentment 
against  herself.  She  wished  to  maintain  her  present 
relations  with  her  niece,  of  whom  she  had  been  bor- 
rowing money,  and  without  whose  aid  she  could  not 
have  kept  up  the  house  in  Eaton  Square.  In  the 
course  of  the  past  two  years  she  had  lost  half  her 
capital  in  injudicious  investments,  and  it  was  improb- 
able that  she  would  ever  be  in  a  position  to  repay  the 
girl,  who,  on  her  part,  thought  little  of  the  circum- 
stance, for  she  had  a  respectable  fortune,  some  forty 
thousand  pounds,  which  yielded  an  interest  that  more 
than  supplied  her  wants.  There  was  no  love  between 
the  ladies,  however,  and  no  sympathy,  and  in  view  of 
their  financial  relations  Lady  Caterham  felt  that  she 
was  not  at  liberty  to  criticise  her  niece's  actions. 
What  she  thought  about  them  may  be  imagined. 
Here  was  a  girl  who  had  a  splendid  career  open  to 
her,  who  might  have  had  suitors  by  the  score  and  the 
respect  and  admiration  of  every  one,  but  who  ruined 
her  prospects  by  her  fanatical  zeal.  She  was,  more- 
over, as  Lady  Caterham  reflected,  a  woman  with  a 
proud  and  sensitive  spirit  who  must  have  felt  acutely 
[269] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


the  ridicule,  the  half -veiled  sneere,  and  the  occasional 
insults  which  her  conduct  brought  upon  her. 

There  was  one  point,  however,  upon  which  she  had 
ventured  to  remonstrate  with  her  niece,  namely,  her 
intimacy  with  the  Keramurs.  Eva  called  upon  the 
Bretons  two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  frequently 
invited  Ernest  to  the  house  in  Eaton  Square.  Lady 
Caterham  found  the  young  man  incomprehensible  and 
said  so  to  Mortimer,  who  described  Ernest  as  a 
somewhat  shadowy  person.  But  Eva's  friendship 
for  the  organist  can  be  easily  explained.  Curiosity, 
astonishment,  gratitude  were  the  feelings  with  which 
she  had  successively  regarded  him,  and  the  last  named 
abided  in  her  and  was  joined  by  sympathy  and  strong 
interest.  He  possessed  the  striking  singularity  that 
she  demanded  of  the  Catholic,  he  was  before  all  things 
a  son  of  Rome ;  his  air,  in  her  opinion,  had  the  dis- 
tinction that  should  appertain  to  a  man  who  came  of 
a  race  of  saints.  The  records  of  his  house  abounded 
in  miracles,  legends,  prophetic  utterances  and  their 
fulfilment ;  from  time  immemorial  the  Keramurs  had 
been  in  close  communion  with  the  Deity.  Ernest 
never  for  an  instant  implied  that  he  himself  was  a 
saint,  but  he  held  forth  with  pride  upon  the  sanctity 
of  his  ancestors.  He  believed  in  all  he  said  and  in 
himself  and  in  her,  which  after  aU  was  the  chief 
point ;  he  had  told  her  that  she  would  become  great 
in  the  Church,  and  she  had  become  great  in  it,  and 
he  venerated  her,  and  she  knew  it.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  obsequiousness  about  him;  she  was  exalting 
her  house  to  the  level  his  own  had  attained  centuries 
[270] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ago.  Undoubtedly,  he  flattered  her,  but  not  by  de- 
sign, else  she  would  have  discovered  and  resented  it 
at  once ;  he  was  amazingly  discreet,  intensely  wise  in 
his  simplicity.  She  liked  to  sit  with  him  and  his 
mother  and  discourse  of  Rome,  Rome's  history,  her 
saints,  her  legends,  her  art;  she  looked  forward  to 
these  visits  and  dwelt  with  happy  recollection  upon 
the  pair,  who  seemed  somehow  to  belong  to  a  past  age, 
the  age  of  Faith.  She  knew  what  men  were  and 
winced  under  their  glances ;  Ernest  was  pure  and  his 
eyes  expressed  reverence.  She  spoke  her  mind  to 
him,  knowing  that  he  would  understand  and  sympa- 
thise with  her ;  described  her  campaign,  her  successes 
and  failures,  and  now  and  then  alluded  to  her  feel- 
ings, her  elation,  her  despondency,  her  humiliations. 
He  was  her  "spiritual  brother."  She  had  no  idea 
that  he  aspired  to  be  something  else,  that  he  was 
patiently  awaiting  the  events  that  were  to  make  her 
his  bride. 

Eva  was  inclined  to  be  pontifical  and  to  criticise 
the  action  of  the  ecclesiastical  powers,  to  inveigh 
against  their  lack  of  zeal  and  enterprise.  Why,  good 
gracious,  if  she  had  been  in  the  position  of  Cardinal 

Grimsby !     But  she  hoped  that  she  was  not  guilty 

of  spiritual  pride,  and  she  thrust  from  her  mind  the 
idea  that  if  she  were  to  die  her  gown  would  be  cut  up 
and  the  pieces  put  into  reliquaries  and  venerated. 
Ernest  de  Keramur  would  deserve  a  piece — but  the 
thought  was  wicked  and  she  resisted  it !  Meanwhile 
it  was  pretty  to  see  the  beautiful  girl  enthusiastically 
holding  forth  upon  the  Catholic  Church  to  the  pious 
[271] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


young  Breton  and  his  stately  mother  amid  the  cruci- 
fixes, sacred  pictures,  reliquaries,  and  symbols  that 
filled  the  room.  And  it  was  significant,  testifying  as 
it  did  to  the  vigour  of  the  marvellous  old  Church,  to 
the  power  she  wields,  to  the  immense  love  she  is 
capable  of  inspiring. 

Ernest  was  making  a  good  deal  of  money  at  this 
time,  chiefly  by  giving  organ  lessons  to  Eva's  friends. 
She  described  to  them  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
that  are  to  be  obtained  even  from  a  moderate 
acquaintance  with  the  instrument,  and  dwelt  upon 
Keramur's  capabilities  as  a  teacher.  To  be  sure,  his 
terms  were  high,  but  for  her  part  she  thought  him 
quite  justified  in  demanding  high  payment  for  his 
lessons,  and  in  these  days  everyone  charged  for  his 
artistic  work  whether  or  not  he  was  in  need  of  money. 
Perhaps  she  did  not  mean  to  convey  the  impression 
that  Ernest  was  a  rich  and  important  man  who  played 
the  organ  and  gave  organ  lessons  because  he  liked  the 
work,  but  that  was  the  impression  she  did  convey, 
and  it  enabled  him  to  obtain  the  high  terms  she 
advised  him  to  charge.  One  day  Mortimer  was  ques- 
tioned about  the  "Comte  de  Keramur  who  went  in 
for  organ-playing,"  and  was  about  to  give  a  laughing 
reply,  when  he  found  Eva's  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with 
a  threatening  expression. 

But  trouble  menaced  the  girl  from  several  quarters. 
When  it  was  known  that  Lady  Linlithgow's  daughter 
had  gone  over  to  Rome,  much  ill-feeling  was  roused 
against  Eva  and  much  sympathy  felt  for  the  Linlith- 
gows,  who  turned  their  daughter  out  of  the  house  and 
[272] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


refused  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  her.  She 
had  a  little  money  of  her  own,  but  not  sufficient  for 
her  maintenance,  and  with  reluctance  she  accepted 
help  from  Eva,  who  sold  her  saddle-horses  and  added 
the  money  to  the  fund  she  had  started  for  the  aid  of 
her  "spiritual  children."  When  Lady  Caterham 
heard  of  this  she  was  indignant  and  alarmed,  but  her 
remonstrances  had  no  effect. 

A  week  later  Eva  received  an  extraordinary  affront 
at  a  reception  in  Piccadilly  given  by  one  of  the  most 
popular  of  London's  hostesses.  Meeting  Lady  Lin- 
lithgow unexpectedly,  she  offered  her  her  hand, 
whereupon  the  Countess  turned  aside,  and  exclaimed 
to  a  neighbour,  "Why  is  that  woman  here?  Why 
isn't  she  with  her  priest?  "  and  marched  out  of  the 
room.  The  words  were  heard  by  several  people  who 
were  dumbfounded  at  them,  and  they  were  repeated 
to  the  hostess,  who  was  indignant  that  one  of  her 
guests  should  have  been  so  grossly  insulted.  She 
struck  Lady  Linlithgow's  name  out  of  her  visiting 
list,  but  she  struck  Eva's  out  also,  though  she  liked 
and  admired  the  girl. 

On  the  following  day  Eva  received  a  visit  from  an 
old  lady  who  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  her 
father's  and  who  had  been  a  witness  of  the  scene  just 
described.  In  the  kindest  possible  way,  and  with 
many  protestations  of  affection,  the  old  lady  implored 
Eva,  for  the  sake  of  her  good  name,  for  her  father's 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  social  peace,  to  abandon  a  course 
that  stirred  dissensions  in  families  and  led  to  so  much 
imhappiness.  She  gave  Eva  credit  for  good  motives, 
17  [  273  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


and  said  that  few  if  any  people  thought  the  worse  of 
her  for  becoming  a  Eoman  Catholic,  but  she  tried  to 
make  her  realise  the  peculiar  stigma  that  attaches  to 
the  proselytiser,  who  must  needs  be  regarded  by  all 
who  disagree  with  her  as  an  unpleasant,  a  disturbing, 
and  a  very  ill-bred  person.  "To  be  sure,  when 
people  first  heard  that  you  had  joined  the  Roman 
Catholics  and  insisted  upon  every  one  following  your 
example,  they  were  amused  and  interested,  and  liked 
you  all  the  better  for  your  enthusiasm,"  pursued  the 
old  lady,  "but  then  they  thought  you  harmless.  Now 
they  are  beginning  to  see  that  you  are  dangerous 
and  consequently  give  you  the  cold  shoulder.  The 
ill-feeling  against  you  is  increasing  very  rapidly,  I 
am  grieved  to  say,  and  evil-minded  persons  are 
hinting  scandalous  things  against  you.  You  have 
a  secret  enemy  or  enemies  trying  to  ruin  your  repu- 
tation. I  know  that  you  will  forgive  my  saying  this. 
Your  father  was  my  oldest  and  dearest  friend." 

Later  on  in  the  same  day  a  Catholic  friend  called 
in  Eaton  Square  and  remonstrated  with  Eva  much  to 
the  same  effect,  though  not  in  such  strong  terms. 
The  newcomer,  a  gossipy,  kind  little  woman,  told  the 
girl  that  a  priest  had  said  to  her:  "Ah,  poor  Mon- 
signor  Vancelour!  How  your  amazing  friend  must 
disturb  him!  You  see  he  is  an  apostle  to  the  rich 
and  well-bred,  and  hitherto  has  had  an  easy  time  of 
it."  The  point  of  this  was  of  course  directed  against 
the  Eector  of  St.  Peter's,  but  it  recalled  to  Eva's 
mind  certain  tones  and  looks  of  Monsignor  and  cer- 
tain words  he  had  used  at  their  last  interview  which 
[^74] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


suggested  that  he  was  distressed  and  perplexed  by 
her  conduct. 

She  had  not  allowed  herself  to  dwell  upon  it,  but 
the  idea  had  more  than  once  occurred  to  her  that 
Monsignor  did  not  support  her  so  enthusiastically  as 
she  had  the  right  to  expect.  He  did  his  part  of  their 
joint  work  right  well,  and  their  joint  enterprise  was 
very  successful,  but  she  had  missed  the  encourage- 
ment of  which  she  had  occasionally  felt  the  need. 
Perhaps  he  thought  her  an  ill-bred  person ! 

Should  she  abandon  her  mission*?  Or  should  she 
go  on  with  it  in  spite  of  the  obstacles  that  were 
accumulating  in  her  path,  devote  all  her  money  to 
the  cause  as  well  as  all  her  energy,  defy  public  opin- 
ion, and  with  the  spirit  of  a  martyr  welcome  the 
contempt  and  persecution  of  the  world?  Or  again, 
should  she  take  the  veil,  a  course  from  which 
Monsignor  had  dissuaded  her?  With  these  questions 
unanswered  in  her  mind  she  put  on  her  plainest  dress, 
laid  aside  her  bangles  and  trinkets  and  all  superfluous 
ornament,  and  walked  unattended  to  the  presbytery 
of  St.  Peter's. 

Monsignor  was  at  once  struck  with  the  change  in 
her  appearance.  He  had  been  used  to  see  her  in 
magnificent  toilettes,  to  hear  the  tinkle  of  her  bangles 
when  she  moved,  to  be  aware  of  her  stately  carriage, 
and,  more  subtly,  of  her  immense  vitality ;  and  he  felt 
a  shock  upon  observing  her  plain  dress,  her  chastened 
manner,  the  look  of  trouble  in  her  eyes,  her  air  of 
defeat. 

"I  ought  to  tell  you.  Father,  that  I  am  helping 
[275] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Anne  in  spite  of  what  you  said,  and  have 
started  the  fund  of  which  I  spoke  when  we  last  met. 
I  have  sold  my  horses. " 

"You  were  fond  of  riding?  " 

"Ah,  yes! "  said  she  with  a  sad  smile. 

"Er — ^you  will  not  deny  yourself  all  healthful 
pleasures?  Do  you  contemplate  reducing  your 
expenditure  in  other  ways?  " 

"  I  am  in  doubt ;  I  am  trying  to  make  up  my  mind, 
to  decide  upon  my  future  course.  I  want  you  to  help 
me,  Father,  for  I  feel  that  I  have  come  to  a  crisis  in 
my  life." 

"You  find  it  difl&cult  to  persevere!  You've  been 
encountering  fresh  troubles?  Kemember  that  you  are 
winning  souls  for  Christ,  doing  a  holy  work.  I  trust 
that  you  will  not  abandon  it." 

His  tone  was  so  much  more  encouraging  than  it  had 
been  of  late  that  she  glanced  up  at  him  with  surprise. 

"I  shall  not  abandon  it,  but — but Ah,  but 

what  they  think  of  me !  It  is  not  the  rudeness  and 
slights  and  sneers;  I  can  put  up  with  them.  A 
fanatic,  a  preaching  woman,  I  don't  mind  being 
called  such  names.  It's  those  glances  that  distress 
me,  the  glances  in  which  good  women  and  upright 
men  tell  me  that  I  am  forfeiting  their  respect,  that  I 
am  unworthy  to  be  among  them,  a  disgrace  to  my 
class,  an  ill-bred  woman.  I  could  put  up  with  the 
hatred  of  the  world  or  with  active  persecution,  and  I 
do  put  up  with  affronts ;  but  it's  the  contempt,  the 
silent  contempt  of  quiet,  good  people,  some  of  them 
old  friends  of  my  family,  that  I  find  so  hard  to  bear. 
[276] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


I  don't  think  that  you  can  realise  what  this  means  to 
a  woman,  Father.  She  expects  a  certain  respect,  a 
certain  homage,  a  certain  tribute  to  her  sex.  When 
I  move  towards  the  door  I  intercept  a  glance  that 
seems  to  say,  '  Don't  open  it  for  her.  She  is  creeping 
into  families,  setting  mothers  against  daughters, 
seducing  the  minds  of  weak  youths  and  maidens ! ' 
They  deny  me  courage  and  whisper  that  I  am  an 
underhand  person,  more  dangerous  and  quite  as 
vulgar  as  the  men  who  preach  in  the  Park.  Ah, 
courage !     My  black  mare  Bess  did  something  for  my 

reputation  in  that  respect !     I  should  like And 

the  thought  of  my  father  troubles  me.  How  it  would 
pain  him  if  he  could  see  those  glances!    He  liked 

people  to  admire Perhaps  my  life  in  those  days 

unfitted  me  for  this  work,  and  I  am  too  sensitive  and 
feel  things  too  much.  I  have  horrible  temptations 
to  retaliate,  to  strike  back,  to  ridicule  my  detractors. 
It  would  be  so  easy !  That  charge  of  cowardice  and 
those  glances  of  contempt  torment  me.  I  feel  inclined 
to  reassert  my  old  power,  to  make  people  regard  me 
as  they  used  to  do.  It  would  be  so  easy !  I  could — 
God  forgive  me  for  saying  it! — get  many  of  these 
people  in  my  power,  the  men  especially,  and  it  is 
they  who  have  made  me  suffer  most  by  their  half- 
veiled  insults ;  I  could  bring  them  to  my  feet  were  I 
to  employ  the  means.  I  do  not  dwell  upon  such 
ideas,  I  drive  them  from  me ;  they  are  horrible  and 
degrading ;  but  they  occur  to  me  when  I  am  wounded. 
I  am  sinful  and  weak;  when  I  am  struck  I  feel 
inclined  to  strike  back  with  my  sex's  weapons.  I  do 
[277  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


not  like  to  be  regarded  as  a  coward,  for  I  am  not  a 
coward.  Social  life  appears  so  different  to  an  expe- 
rienced woman  from  what  it  appears  to  a  careless 
man.  She  sees  so  much  more  than  he  does:  the 
rudeness,  the  impertinence,  the  cruelty,  the  horrible 
insinuations  that  lurk  in  a  smile,  in  a  movement  of 
the  shoulder,  in  what  appears  an  ordinary  remark! 
When  people's  feelings  are  roused  against  one,  as 
they  are  roused  against  me,  they  have  a  hundred 
ways  of  showing  it.  I  hope  that  you  will  pardon  me 
for  running  on  in  this  way.  Father ;  I  have  come  to  a 
crisis  in  my  life,  and  I  want  you  thoroughly  to 
understand  me." 

She  had  frequently  paused  during  the  sentences  of 
this  speech  and  changed  her  tone ;  when  confessing  to 
her  weaknesses  she  had  spoken  in  a  soft  voice  and 
shown  some  confusion. 

Monsignor  was  not  surprised  at  anything  she  had 
said,  nor  was  his  opinion  of  her  reduced  by  it.  They 
who  suffer  temptations  and  overcome  them  stand 
higher,  according  to  the  Church's  teaching,  than  they 
who  are  not  tempted.  This  was  a  proud  and  pas- 
sionate woman  who  could  have  brought  the  world  to 
her  feet  had  she  chosen,  but  who  devoted  her  powers 
to  the  service  of  religion.  The  type  was  a  fine  one, 
from  the  Catholic  point  of  view,  and  his  judgement  of 
it  was  not  affected  by  the  unfortunate  circumstance 
that  he  was  not  personally  attracted  by  it.  He  per- 
ceived that  "  the  world  "  had  found  out  her  sensitive 
spot,  discovered  how  to  torment  her  by  impugning 
her  courage. 

[  278  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"I  do  understand  you,  my  daughter,"  he  began  in 
his  quiet  way.  "Upon  entering  the  Church  you 
wished  to  show  your  gratitude  to  God  by  devoting 
your  energies  to  His  service.  You  wanted  to  be 
something  more  than  a  mere  ordinary  Catholic  gentle- 
woman; you  wanted  to  do  a  great  work,  and  you 
were  willing  to  sacrifice  your  worldly  prospects  to  it. 
Many  ladies  who  entertain  this  noble  idea  take  the 
veil,  but  I  have  advised  you  against  that  course.  I 
do  not  think  that  you  are  fit  for  a  convent  life ;  to 
speak  frankly,  I  think  that  if  you  entered  a  convent 
you  would  soon  come  out  of  it — though  not,  of  course, 
if  you  had  taken  the  vows.  By  this  I  do  not  mean 
to  imply  that  your  zeal  is  less  than  that  of  most  nuns, 
but  that  it  is  of  a  more  active,  stirring  kind.  If  it 
were  possible  you  would  put  on  armour  and  with 
sword  in  hand  go  forth  and  do  battle  for  Holy 
Church " 

"Ah,  that  I  should!"  she  cried  with  glistening 
eyes. 

He  smiled,  glad  of  the  diversion.  "  But  that  is  not 
possible;  besides  which  the  Church  does  not  over- 
come her  enemies  with  the  sword. " 

"She  often  did  in  the  Middle  Ages." 

"  Perhaps  not  always  wisely, "  said  he.  "  And,  after 
all,  we  do  not  wish  to  overcome  her  enemies,  but  to 
win  them  to  her,  and  this  is  the  work  upon  which 
you  have  been  engaged.  Now  you  have  been  aston- 
ishingly successful ;  I  have  never  known  anyone  who 
has  brought  so  many  people  to  the  Church  as  you 
have ;  and  from  this  I  conclude  that  your  decision  to 
[  279  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


undertake  this  work  was  prompted  from  above.  But 
the  melancholy  fact  remains  that  the  world  hates  you, 
must  hate  you,  for  doing  such  a  work.  The  so-called 
proselytiser  is  as  bad  as  a  criminal,  worse  than  many 
criminals,  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  differ  from 
her.  You  are  disseminating  evil,  corrupting,  seduc- 
ing weak  minds,  according  to  the  Protestant,  the 
Dissenter,  even  the  Agnostic.  They  think  you  under- 
hand, ill-bred,  cowardly,  crafty,  un-English.  I  and 
some  others  think  that  you  are  advancing  the  interests 
of  truth,  that  you  are  very  courageous  and  logical, 
and  that  your  methods  are  as  open  and  above-board 
as  they  can  be.  But  we  are  in  the  minority.  Ah, 
my  daughter,  we  are  in  a  minority  among  our  own 
body!  God  will  reward  you  in  the  hereafter,  your 
converts  will  be  grateful  to  you,  your  conscience  will 
approve  your  action,  but  you  must  be  content  with 
that.  You  will  be  made  to  suffer  more  than  the  nun 
has  to  suffer,  and  your  high  spirit,  your  character, 
your  temperament,  your  training  render  you  pecu- 
liarly liable  to  the  sort  of  pain  you  will  have  to  bear. 
I  feel  it  my  duty — and  I  have  pondered  the  matter — 
to  advise  and  encourage  you  to  persevere ;  but  you 
will  fail,  you  will  break  down,  unless  you  can  attain 
to  a  spiiitual  state  which  is  beyond  the  reach  even  of 
most  pious  souls,  the  state  in  which  you  can  welcome 
pain,  humiliation,  and  the  contempt  even  of  good 
people  for  Christ's  sake. " 

She  remained  silent,  and  he  went  on  again :  "Nor 
may  you  take  refuge  in  spiritual  pride,  which  is 
grievously    sinful,   nor    despise  your  co-religionists 
[280] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


because  they  are  less  zealous  than  yourself,  nor  exult 
in  the  thought  of  your  power  and  success.  It  were 
far  better  that  you  abandoned  this  work  than  that 
you  allowed  it  to  stir  such  feelings  in  you.  You  have 
an  insidious  foe,  my  daughter " 

"  Oh,  but,  Father,  you  are  too  hard ! "  she  cried. 
"You  expect  too  much !     I'm  only  a  woman ! " 

"There  are  other  good  works  that  you  could  engage 
in  besides  that  of  making  converts,"  he  went  on, 
without  heeding  her  interruption.  "You  could  join 
Lady  Purley  in  the  East-end  and  spend  your  time 
among  the  poor,  employ  your  energies  and  some  of 
your  money  on  their  behalf.  That  is  a  very  char- 
itable and  holy  work.  Lady  Purley,  as  you  know, 
is  an  admirable  Catholic  lady.  Everyone,  whether 
Catholic  or  Protestant,  respects  her." 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  Eva  bitterly;  "society  respects 
her;  me  it  despises;  but  she  has  not  to  suffer  as  I 
have  to  suffer." 

"Perhaps  not." 

"And  surely  the  more  we  suffer " 

"I  should  not  dwell  upon  that  thought,"  he 
interrupted. 

"But  why  not?  I  want  to  suffer  for  the  Church, 
to  make  some  return  to  her.  I  love  her.  Do,  do 
realise  that!  I  want  to  prove  that  I  love  her.  A 
wife  worthy  of  the  name  is  ready  to  sacrifice  herself 
to  her  husband's  interests,  a  mother  to  her  child's 
interests.  I  wish  to  be  a  Catholic  worthy  of  the 
name.  I  will  join  Lady  Purley  to-morrow,  if  you 
advise  it,  if  you  think  that  I  shall  be  of  greater 
[281] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


service  to  the  Church  by  doing  so  than  by  continuing 
with  my  present  work.  I  will  abide  by  your  deci- 
sion, Father." 

Monsignor  meditated  for  a  while,  his  brows 
working.  At  length:  "No,"  said  he,  "I  cannot 
conscientiously  advise  you  to  throw  up  your  mission. 
I  almost  wish  that  I  could,  but  I  cannot.  I  encourage 
you  to  go  on  with  it  till — ^till — ^while  you  have  the 
opportunity." 

"Ah!"  she  cried,  "till  I  am  ostracised,  till  doors 
are  shut  in  my  face ! " 

"Yes,"  said  he. 

"And  then?" 

"Then  you  will  seek  some  other  way  of  doing 
God's  work.  Having  forfeited  your  position  in 
society,  you  will  be  ready  to  make  other  sacrifices; 
you  will  choose  the  most  difl&cult,  the  most  ungrateful 
tasks,  from  which  everyone  but  you  will  shrink. 
Your  life  will  be  an  utter  failure  from  the  worldly 
point  of  view,  and  I  doubt  that  you  will  have  post- 
humous fame.  Your  name  may  never  be  written  in 
the  history  of  the  Church,  you  may  not  even  win  the 
admiration  of  the  majority  of  your  Catholic  acquaint- 
ances; you  are  forbidden  under  heavy  penalties  to 
indulge  in  spiritual  pride,  constantly  you  will  be 
tempted  to  think  of  and  regret  all  that  you  have  lost 
through  your  own  deliberate  choice;  but  if  you 
persevere  you  will  be  a  true  follower  of  Christ,  a 
loyal,  logical  Catholic." 

After  a  pause  he  went  on:  "But,  as  I  have  often 
told  you,  the  Church  by  no  means  imposes  such  harsh 
[282] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


and  difficult   tasks  upon  her  children.     They — you 
voluntarily  undertake  them." 

"Yes,"  said  she.  "My  mind  is  made  up.  I  have 
told  God  that  I  am  ready  to  die  for  Him ;  but  He 
seems  to  tell  me  that  He  does  not  want  me  to  lose  my 
life,  but  to  lose  the  love  and  respect  and  good  opinion 
of  everybody — my  family,  my  friends,  whether  Cath- 
olic or  Protestant — for  His  sake.  I  seem  to  under- 
stand it  all, "  she  went  on  in  a  tone  of  resigned  sadness. 
"My  tale  is  a  very  simple  and  unimportant  one  when 
regarded  aright.  God  is  disciplining  me.  He  placed 
me  in  a  high  position  and  gave  me  more  of  the  good 
things  of  life  than  He  gives  to  most  women,  and  I 
enjoyed  them  and  forgot  all  about  the  Giver.  Then 
He  sent  me  troubles — ah,  what  troubles ! — that  made 
me  think  of  Him.  But  the  old  spirit  revived  in  me ; 
because  the  world  had  become  hateful  to  me  I  would 
serve  Him,  but  only  on  my  own  conditions ;  I  would 
ignore  His  warning,  and  hate,  and,  so  far  as  was 
within  my  power,  persecute  His  Church  if  she  did 
not  receive  me  on  my  own  terms.  I  would  keep  my 
pride  whatever  happened.  And  then  my  pride  was 
humbled  and  I  submitted.  But  again  the  old  spirit 
revived,  but  in  a  less  gross  form.  Having  become  a 
Catholic  I  would  be  a  prominent  Catholic,  the  Catholic, 
and,  since  you  advised  me  against  entering  a  convent, 
the  Catholic  laywoman,  and  I  did  a  Catholic  work 
and  my  co-religionists  distrusted  and  disliked  me  for 
it.  Still  the  work  was  successful,  and  I  felt  that  I 
had  the  right  to  the  respect  of  my  friends  and 
acquaintances ;  at  least  they  would  give  me  credit  for 
[283] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


courage,  I  thought ;  but  that  is  the  very  quality  which 
they  deny  me.  And  the  process  will,  I  feel,  be  con- 
tinued ;  I  shall  be  humbled  again  and  again ;  the  bad 
in  me  will  be  continually  coming  to  the  fore  in  some 
new  shape,  and  God  in  His  mercy  will  not  cease  to 
remind  me  of  it  and  help  me  to  check  it.  He  has 
promised  us  another  life ;  He  will  not  allow  me  to  fix 
my  attention  upon  this  one,  and  I  should  thank  Him. 
I  do,  but  I  am  unhappy,  and  that  shows  me  that  I  am 
weak.  Strong  souls  do  not,  I  fancy,  suffer  so  much 
as  I  suffer.  Perhaps  He  will  think  of  that  when  I 
die — perhaps  a  little  before  then ! " 

Tears  gathered  to  her  beautiful  wistful  eyes  as  she 
concluded,  but  she  brushed  them  away,  and  thanked 
the  priest  for  his  advice  and  for  his  patience  with 
her. 

"God  bless  you.  Pray  for  me,"  were  his  final 
words. 


[284] 


CHAPTER  Vni 

CARDINAL  GEIMSBY 

CABDmAL's  House  was  not  a  cheerful-looking 
building  when  viewed  from  the  outside,  nor  were  its 
vast  apartments  suggestive  of  domestic  comfort. 
The  chief  reception-room  was  bare  and  gaunt,  with- 
out cornices  or  enrichment  of  any  kind;  a  Bishop's 
throne  hung  with  red  curtains  projected  on  one  side, 
an  American  organ  stood  in  a  recess,  and  in  the 
centre  was  a  large  table,  upon  which  there  lay  four 
or  five  huge  books  in  red  bindings. 

At  about  five  o'clock  one  afternoon  his  Eminence, 
dressed  in  a  shabby  black  cassock  with  red  buttons, 
was  pacing  this  room  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  striking-looking  men  of  his 
time.  The  upper  part  of  his  head  was  massive  and 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  drawn-in,  kite-like,  lower 
part;  his  high,  broad  forehead  and  piercing  eyes 
suggested  intellectual  qualities  of  a  very  unusual 
order,  and  his  thin  lips,  drawn  tightly  together, 
seemed  to  betoken  secrecy  and  tenacity  of  purpose. 
Age  and  a  habit  of  asceticism  pushed  to  the  extreme 
limit  of  human  endurance  had  reduced  his  figure 
almost  to  a  skeleton,  and  his  head  looked  like  a  skull 
with  brilliant  flashing  stones  inserted  in  the  eye- 
sockets.  Two  of  his  peculiarities  were  very  notice- 
able :  his  habit  of  moving  his  shrunken  jaws  up  and 
[286] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


down,  which  silggested  that  he  was  chewing  the  cud, 
and  his  habit  of  punctuating  his  remarks  and  thoughts 
with  a  sniff,  "which  warns  you,"  he  was  wont  to  say, 
"that  I  have  homicidal  mania! " 

Presently  he  rang  a  bell  that  was  answered  by  a 
man  who  bore  a  name  even  more  distinguished  in  the 
Church's  annals  than  his  own,  and  some  minutes  later 
Monsignor  Vancelour  was  ushered  into  his  presence. 

The  Eector,  like  his  host,  had  the  priestly  air  and 
looked  an  ecclesiastic  to  his  finger-tips,  but  in  many 
other  respects  the  men  presented  a  contrast.  Mon- 
signor was  a  little  inclined  to  stoutness,  and  slow  and 
stately  in  his  movements ;  his  fine  features  were  as  a 
rule  at  rest  and  his  expression  was  benign.  Cardinal 
Grimsby,  on  the  other  hand,  was  quick,  almost  agile, 
in  his  movements,  despite  his  great  age ;  the  muscles 
of  his  face  were  rarely  at  rest ;  in  him  was  imper- 
sonated the  untiring  energy  of  the  ancient  Church. 
His  expression  was  at  times  extraordinarily  stern  and 
inspired  awe ;  but  he  was  very  gracious  in  ordinary 
social  intercourse,  and  to  the  very  young  and  very 
old,  to  the  poor  and  downtrodden,  he  was  wonderfully 
gentle  and  kind.  On  the  other  hand,  more  than  one 
strong  man  and  proud  woman  had  quaked  for  fear  in 
his  presence. 

The  Cardinal  regarded  Monsignor  with  a  searching 
glance,  in  which  dislike  and  suspicion  were  evident, 
and  irony  just  discernible.  Monsignor  met  it  with 
an  impassive  face;  came  forward,  bent  and  saluted 
his  Eminence's  ring,  and  then  stood  in  a  stiff  formal 
attitude.  The  Cardinal  motioned  him  to  a  seat,  and 
[286] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


broke  silence  by  observing,  "I  wish  you  to  see  the 
design  for  my  new  Cathedral."  With  that  he  took 
up  an  architectural  drawing  and  handed  it  to  his 
visitor. 

"Ah,  the  Votive  Church  at  Vienna!"  exclaimed 
Monsignor. 

"You  had  not  heard  that  I  had  chosen  that  design! 
No  ?  Aristocratic  Rome  is  not  interested  in  so  trifling 
a  matter  !  But  does  the  design  please  you  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  more  gracious  tone. 

"  Yes, "  said  the  Eector  simply,  "  I  think  it  a  fine 
design." 

"But  it  is  a  little  stilted,  eh? — a  little  preten- 
tious! "  He  took  up  the  drawing.  "It  is  a  tall  man 
on  tiptoe,"  said  he,  glancing  at  it.  "And  that,"  he 
added,  pointing  to  a  window  whence  the  towers  of 
Westminster  Abbey  were  visible,  "  is  a  giant  in 
repose.  Disquieting  rumours  have  come  to  my  ears, " 
he  went  on  quickly,  putting  down  the  drawing,  and 
pacing  the  ground  in  front  of  Monsignor.  "You 
must  be  on  your  guard,  more  circumspect.  Lewd 
men,  wine-bibbers,  the  enemies  of  the  Church  are  on 
your  track.  And  you  must  rule  your  flock  with  a 
firmer  hand.  Complaints  have  reached  me.  I  have 
banished  women  from  the  choir.  They  need  repres- 
sion ;  they  would  like  to  push  ahead  in  God's  Church 
and  pull  the  strings  and  set  the  clergy  dancing.  That 
must  not  be  permitted.  A  lady  of  deep  conviction 
and  great  zeal  has  joined  the  Church  and  drawn 
much  attention  to  herself.  She  is  no  doubt  a  noble- 
minded  Catholic,  but  she  is  impulsive,  I  am  told, 
[287] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


injudicious  and  imperious  in  her  methods.  Women 
in  these  days  are  ambitious  and  hope  to  achieve  great 
things  without  the  necessary  training.  Sanctity, 
spiritual  distinction,  is  not  to  be  attained  without 
severe  discipline.  The  drawing-room  queen  of  last 
week  suddenly  changes  her  mind  and  aspires  to  rule 
in  the  Church ;  she  presses  the  clergy  into  her  service, 
directs  the  church  officials,  selects  the  music  and 
ceremonial.  She  has  a  commanding  personality,  a 
strong  will,  er — er  (he  sniffed  several  times)  personal 
charm,  and  she  induces  her  friends  to  follow  her 
example  and  join  the  Church.  Her  motives  are 
good,  she  is  sincerely  anxious  to  do  God's  work,  but 
to  do  it  in  her  own  way.  Such  a  woman  needs  a 
strong  director.  She  is  young,  she  is — she  is  a 
woman,  she  is  an  aristocrat ! " 

"I  know  of  course  to  whom  your  Eminence  is 
referring,"  said  Monsignor  in  an  expressionless  voice. 
"But  you  do  not  wish  me  to  discuss  the  lady,  I  feel 
sure." 

"No." 

"Then  may  I  ask  what  is  the  drift  of  your  Emi- 
nence's remarks!  " 

"  In  the  first  place  I  wish  to  convey  a  reproof  to 
you,"  said  the  Cardinal,  halting  and  looking  into  his 
companion's  eyes.  "You  have  allowed  this  lady 
privileges  that  you  should  not  allow  to  a  member  of 
the  laity.  I  understand  that  she  is  in  the  habit  of 
giving  her  orders  to  your  organist  and  your  sacristan, 
of  criticising  and  interfering  with  the  arrangements 
of  the  church.  I  understand  that  you  postponed  one 
[288] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


of  your  retreats  for  women  at  her  request,  and  that 
many  people  who  had  arranged  to  attend  it  were  put 
to  serious  inconvenience.  It  is  said  that  you  devote 
so  much  time  to  her  that  you  have  none  to  spare  for 
others  whose  claims  upon  you  are  as  urgent  as  hers. 
The  lady  is  too  much  en  evidence  at  St.  Peter's. " 

A  little  colour  mounted  to  the  Hector's  cheek,  and 
he  dropped  his  eyes  and  was  silent  for  a  while. 
When  he  spoke  his  tone  was  quite  calm.  "It  is  true, 
your  Eminence,  that  I  have  devoted  more  time, 
more  thought,  more  care  to  this  lady  than  to  any 
other  member  of  my  congregation,  and  if  she  has 
interfered  with  the  church  arrangements,  I  am  to 
blame,  for  she  could  not  have  done  so  without  my 
consent.  And  I  feel  that  I  am  to  some  extent  to 
blame,  and  of  course  I  shall  keep  your  reproof  in 
mind.  But  I  would  ask  your  Eminence  to  consider 
the  case  of  a  priest  who  finds  himself  the  director  of 
a  lady  of  deep  piety  and  great  spiritual  power,  who  is 
ready  to  sacrifice  all  that  she  possesses,  and  has 
already  sacrificed  much  that  she  possesses  and  treas- 
ures, to  the  holy  work  of  winning  souls  for  Christ. 
She  has  brought  more  souls  to  the  Church  than  any- 
one with  whom  I  am  acquainted.  Her  power  of 
impressing  people  with  the  truth  of  Catholicism  is  so 
great  that  I  must  conclude  that  she  is  in  some  special 
way  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  Her  success  is 
extraordinary. " 

"I  hear  that  the  persons  she  brings  to  you  for 
instruction  join  the  Church." 

"The  majority  of  them  do." 
1»  [  289  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"  And  remain  in  the  Church  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the  Cardinal,  resuming  his  walk. 
Suddenly  he  stopped  and  asked,  "You  regard  her  as 
a  saint  I" 

"I  do." 

"And  you  have  an  acute  sense  of  your  responsi- 
bility as  her  director?  " 

"Yes." 

"You  might  advise  her  to  seek  counsel  of  Father 
Macdonald.  He  might  relieve  you  of  the  responsi- 
bility." 

The  suggestion  could  not  but  wound  Monsignor. 
He  frowned,  coloured,  and  kept  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground.  Eaising  them  and  speaking  in  a  calm  voice, 
he  said,  "  I  will  give  her  that  advice. " 

A  silence  lasting  a  couple  of  minutes  ensued.  The 
Eector  kept  his  seat,  the  Cardinal  paced  the  room, 
moving  his  shrunken  jaws  up  and  down  and  sniffing 
at  intervals.  Suddenly  he  halted,  rang  a  bell,  and 
asked  his  servant  to  bring  him  a  sealed  envelope  that 
lay  in  a  bureau  in  the  library.  It  was  handed  to 
him  in  due  course,  and  he  passed  it  on  to  Monsignor, 
asking  him  to  open  it  and  read  the  enclosures.  The 
Eector  took  two  newspaper  cuttings  and  a  page  from 
a  journal  from  the  envelope,  and  began  to  read  them, 
while  the  Cardinal's  eyes  remained  fixed  upon  him  in 
a  searching  gaze. 

At  first  Monsignor  seemed  amused  at  what  he  read, 
and  then  perplexed;  then  he  put  the  newspaper 
cutting  aside  and  glanced  into  space  as  though  he 
[290] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


were  making  a  call  upon  his  memory.  He  then 
turned  to  the  second  newspaper  cutting,  read  it  very 
slowly,  and  laid  it  aside,  frowning  in  anger.  While 
reading  the  page  from  the  journal,  his  expression  re- 
mained the  same  but  increased  in  intensity.  It  was 
an  expression  of  mingled  indignation,  astonishment, 
and  horror.  Twice  he  seemed  about  to  speak,  but 
checked  himself ;  at  length  he  rose  and  walked  about, 
presumably  to  calm  his  mind ;  returned  to  his  seat, 
put  the  three  extracts  back  again  into  the  envelope, 
Oigain  rose,  approached  the  Cardinal,  and  handed  him 
the  packet.  His  first  effort  at  speech  was  a  failure ; 
the  next  moment  he  managed  to  say  in  a  voice  that 
shook:  "Your  Eminence  can  spare  a  priest  for  St. 
Peter's  1" 

"You  must  remain  there  for  the  present,  Mon- 
signor." 

At  that  the  Sector  meditated  for  a  while,  but  he 
said  nothing  more ;  he  bent  and  saluted  the  episcopal 
ring,  and  took  his  departure. 

Again  the  Cardinal  paced  the  room,  moving  his 
thin  jaws  up  and  down  and  sniflSng. 

Some  five  minutes  later  he  rang  and  asked  if  M.  de 
Keramur  had  come. 

"Yes,  your  Eminence,"  said  the  servant. 

"Then  bring  him  to  me." 

The  Cardinal's  reception  of  the  young  Breton  was 
not  only  gracious,  it  was  affectionate.  He  hurried 
forward  on  seeing  him,  and  Ernest  also  accelerated 
his  movements,  with  the  result  that  he  slipped  on  the 
highly-polished  floor  and  nearly  lost  his  balance. 
[291] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"  My  son,  this  is  not  a  skating-rink, "  said  the  old 
man,  presenting  his  ring  to  the  visitor.  "I  hope 
that  I  have  not  taken  you  from  your  work.  No! 
Sit  down.  I  have  got  something  for  you,  something 
to  refresh  the  inner  man;  for  we  must  resume  our 
quarrel,  my  son,  and  I  do  not  want  to  take  you  at  a 
disadvantage. " 

It  was  a  rare  honour  to  be  waited  upon  by  one  of 
the  most  famous  prelates  of  the  century ;  but  Ernest 
and  Cardinal  Grimsby  were  old  friends,  old  enemies, 
his  Eminence  would  have  said.  As  the  most  able 
Eoman  Catholic  organist  in  the  metropolis,  Keramur 
was  frequently  engaged  to  play  at  other  churches 
besides  St.  Peter's  on  the  days  of  their  titular  feasts, 
occasions  when  the  Cardinal,  as  a  rule,  was  present  at 
them.  After  Mass  his  Eminence  would  send  for 
Ernest  and  banter  him  upon  his  music,  whereupon 
the  young  man  would  defend  himself  with  much 
spirit,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  bystanders.  He 
knew  how  "  to  take  "  the  Cardinal,  who  had  a  genuine 
regard  for  him  and  for  many  other  young  men  who 
were  proud  of  their  religion  and  led  chaste  lives. 

It  was  pretty  to  see  the  wonderful -looking  old 
priest  wait  upon  his  young  guest;  but  it  must  be 
confessed  that  the  "refreshment  for  the  inner  man" 
was  of  a  very  unsubstantial  kind.  The  two  milk 
biscuits  would  have  done  very  well,  considering  the 
hour,  if  a  glass  of  magnificent  old  port  or  Madeira, 
such  as  one  would  naturally  expect  to  get  at  the 
house  of  a  Cardinal,  had  been  forthcoming.  But  it 
was  not:  in  its  stead  was  a  glass  of  orangeade! 
[292] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


However,  it  was  perhaps  some  consolation  to  Kera- 
mur  to  know  that  the  decoction  was  made  from  the 
Cardinal's  own  recipe,  and  that  the  great  man  himself 
enjoyed  it.  Indeed,  he  attributed  his  good  health  in 
a  measure  to  his  imbibition  thereof,  and  strongly 
advised  Ernest  to  drink  it  at  his  meals. 

When  Keramur  had  eaten  the  biscuits  and  drunk 
the  orangeade,  the  Cardinal  resumed  his  walk. 
Presently  he  said:  "Let  there  be  peace  between  us, 
my  son,  this  afternoon.  I  am  going  to  beg  a  favour 
of  you.  But  of  course  it  is  understood  that  the 
music  of  Mozart  and  Haydn  and  Beet — Beet " 

"Beethoven?" 
"is  profane,  music  of  the  concert-room,  music  that 
should  not  be  heard  in  the  Church  of  God,  music  that 
appeals  to  the  riotous  emotions." 

Here  Ernest  made  a  sign  of  dissent,  to  which  the 
Cardinal  paid  no  heed. 

"And  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  have  joined  my 
Society  of  St.  Gregory." 

Keramur  raised  his  brows  at  that;  he  hadn't  joined 
the  Society,  and  was  about  to  say  so  when  the  prelate 
halted  and  bent  a  severe  glance  upon  him.  "I  have 
observed  you  at  our  meetings, "  said  the  old  man. 

"Yes,"  said  Ernest;  "but  I  haven't  joined  the 
Society." 

"  Ah !  but  of  course  you  will  join  it." 

"No,  your  Eminence,  I  cannot  join  it." 

"Why  not?" 

Keramur  hesitated.  "I — I  must  ask  your  par- 
don.    I " 

[293] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"My  son,  you  were  not  wont  to  be  timid." 

"  Well,  your  Eminence,  the  fact  is  that  some  of  the 
prominent  members  of  the  Society  are  in  the  habit  of 
talking  and  writing  a  great  deal  about  Church  music, 
laying  down  the  law,  and  condemning  those  who 
disagree  with  them,  when  all  the  while  they  are 
ignorant  of  the  rudiments  of  the  art  of  music ! " 

This  was  bold  enough,  in  all  conscience.  The 
prelate  pondered  it.  "They  are  ignorant  of  the 
rudiments  of  the  art  of  music,"  he  repeated.  "Now 
that's  very  sad.  You  must  take  compassion  upon 
them.  I  have  just  said  that  I  was  going  to  beg  a 
favour  of  you.  I  want  you  to  help  the  Society.  It 
meets  once  a  month  in  this  room,  and  I  shall  be 
grateful  if  you  will  attend  the  meetings  and  play  the 
American  organ  for  us." 

Keramur  said  that  he  would  be  delighted  to  do  so, 
whereupon  the  Cardinal  took  a  seat  near  him,  and 
observed  in  a  confidential  tone,  "  The  fact  is,  that  our 
organist  plays  excruciatingly  out  of  tune." 

"He  is  certainly  not  a  good  player,"  returned 
Ernest ;  "  but  pardon  me,  your  Eminence,  a  man  can- 
not play  out  of  tune  upon  a  keyed  instrument." 

The  prelate  started  and  seemed  displeased;  he 
looked  the  young  man  in  the  face  and  said  quietly, 
*'Non  credo." 

"But  it  is  impossible,"  Ernest  insisted. 

"Eemember,  my  son,  I  did  not  assert  that  it  was 
you  who  played  out  of  tune." 

"No;  I  remember  that.  But  we  must  be  fair  to 
the  other  man.  A  violinist  can  play  out  of  tune :  he 
[294] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


makes  his  own  notes ;   an  organist  cannot :   the  notes 
are  made  for  him." 

Keramur  spoke  too  vehemently,  perhaps,  to  his 
venerable  disputant ;  but  the  Cardinal  did  not  frown ; 
he  merely  looked  at  his  interlocutor  and  repeated, 
"JVow  credo." 

"Will  your  Eminence  kindly  allow  me  to  prove 
my  words?"  And  upon  receiving  a  nod  of  assent 
Ernest  rose  from  his  seat  and  drew  near  to  the 
American  organ. 

There  was  a  smile  upon  the  grim  visage  of  the  old 
priest,  but  he  would  not  admit  that  he  was  in  the 
wrong.  All  he  said  in  response  to  Ernest's  practical 
proof  was:  "You  are  not  the  other  man.  No  doubt 
you  cannot  play  out  of  tune.  Anyhow  I  am  grateful 
to  you  for  your  promise  of  help.  I  understand  that 
you  are  very  successful  in  your  profession,  that  you 
have  many  pupils." 

"Yes,  a  great  many." 

"One  enthusiastic  pupil  brings  another,  I  suppose. 
One  pupil,  for  example — eh?  " 

"Ah!  your  Eminence  is  right.  One  pupil  has 
brought  me  many  other  pupils.  She  is  herself  an 
excellent  organist.  You  have,  of  course,  heard  of 
her — Lady  Eva  Fitzgower?  " 

"Yes." 

"She  is  the  foremost  Catholic  lady  of  her  time!" 
cried  Ernest. 

"Have  you  the  honour  of  her  friendship?  " 

"We  are  great  friends.  She  is  doing  a  splendid 
work  for  the  Church. " 

[295] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Really?" 

"Why,  surely  your  Eminence  has  heard  about 
it?"  cried  the  young  man.  "She  is  bringing  back 
the  English  to  the  Faith!  She  has  the  most  ex- 
traordinary power !  She  carries  everyone  away  with 
her,  like  the  saints  of  old;  she  is  quite  evidently 
inspired.  When  I  first  beheld  her  I  knew  that  she 
was  destined  to  do  great  things  for  the  Church. 
I  told  Monsignor  so,  I  told  her  so.  She  has  been 
selected  by  Providence  to  effect  the  conversion  of 
this  great  race.  People  laugh  at  me  when  I  say 
that,  but  your  Eminence  will  not  laugh.  She  is  the 
St.  Catherine  of  a  later  age.  My  mother  and  I 
have  never  believed  that  God  would  allow  the  English 
to  remain  in  error,  for  they  are  a  noble  and  a  deeply 
religious  people.  But  the  Catholics  have  no  energy, 
no  courage ;  they  try  to  be  like  other  people,  whereas 
they  ought  to  be  quite  different  from  them.  This 
lady  is  a  Catholic  worthy  of  the  name." 

The  young  man's  simplicity  pleased  the  Cardinal, 
but  his  Eminence's  thoughts  soon  turned  to  Eva, 
about  whom  he  had  almost  made  up  his  mind.  She 
was  a  force,  he  thought,  and  had  in  her  the  makings 
of  a  saint,  but  she  had  been  mismanaged,  misdirected 
by  Monsignor  Vancelour.  Organists  and  noble  ladies, 
dukes  and  dustmen  were  better  simple,  and  the  simpler 
the  better ;  prelates  of  the  Church  had  to  be  subtle ; 
Monsignor  Vancelour  occupied  an  important  position, 
but  he  was  a  weak  ecclesiastic,  and  a  source  of  danger. 

"Ah,  well,  my  son!  we  are  chiefly  interested  in 
music  at  present,"  he  observed.  "I  have  been  think- 
[296] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


ing  over  what  you  said.  You  see  I  was  once  a 
fiddler.  You  are  not?  No?  Ah!  then  you  will  not 
be  able  to  realise  what  an  acutely  sensitive  ear  the 
fiddler  has.  If  a  note  is  in  the  slightest  degree  '  out ' 
he  is  infinitely  distressed.  This  is  not  the  case,  or  at 
all  events  not  to  the  same  extent  the  case,  with  the 
organist.  But  I  want  you  to  repeat  what  you  said 
about  the  keyed  instrument.     Come,  my  son." 

Thereupon  Keramur  repeated  his  explanation, 
which  would  have  been  intelligible  to  a  child,  and 
the  Cardinal  listened  attentively  to  it. 

"Your  argument  is  plausible,"  said  he.  "I  must 
consider  it.  So  a  keyed  instrument  cannot  be  out  of 
tune!  Do  you  know,  my  son,  I  am  afraid  that  you 
are  in  the  wrong  after  all.  This  instrument,  for 
example " 

"Is  horribly  out  of  tune,"  put  in  Ernest,  losing  his 
patience  a  little;  "but  it  would  not  be  right  to  say 
that  I  was  playing  out  of  tune." 

"It  would  not  be  kind,"  said  the  exasperating  old 
man.  "I  have  told  you  that  I  shall  consider  your 
view  and  perhaps  I  may  in  time  adopt  it.  Mean- 
while buy  a  fiddle.  Your  sense  of  hearing  is  not  so 
acute  as  it  might  be.  Thank  you  for  your  promise 
of  help.  In  alliance  you  and  I  will  be  irresistible. 
God  bless  you,  my  son!"  And  he  accompanied  the 
young  man  to  the  door,  smiling  at  him  as  he  took  his 
departure. 

The  smile    might  be    interpreted:    "Gtood  little 
boys  should  not  be  disputatious  when  dignitaries  of 
the  Church  make  trifling  mistakes  I " 
[297] 


CHAPTEE  IX 

THE  SCANDAL 

The  first  of  the  newspaper  extracts  that  Cardinal 
Grimsby  had  handed  to  Monsignor  Vancelour  was 
entitled,  "Fracas  at  a  Club,"  and  described  a  charge 
of  assault  brought  by  a  club  oflBcial  against  Colonel 
Fitzgower  and  Major  Catling.  There  was  no  defence. 
The  two  military  gentlemen  had  quarrelled  and  come 
to  blows,  and  the  waiter  in  his  attempt  to  separate 
the  combatants  had  received  blows  from  one  or  both 
of  them.  It  was  not  contended  that  the  blows  had 
been  meant  for  him,  but  the  evidence  that  he  had 
received  them  was  to  be  seen  upon  his  face.  In  the 
Police  Court  he  had  shown  an  eager  desire  to 
acquaint  the  magistrate  with  the  cause  of  the  quarrel 
between  the  retired  guardsmen,  but  his  Worahip  had 
told  him  to  be  silent  upon  that  matter,  and  had 
brought  the  case  to  an  end  as  quickly  as  possible. 

The  second  of  the  extracts  handed  to  the  Rector  by 
his  Eminence  described  an  interview  between  the 
club  waiter  and  a  representative  of  the  Comet  evening 
newspaper,  who  elicited  a  story  that  may  be  told 
briefly  as  follows:  Colonel  Fitzgower  and  Major 
Gatling  frequently  dined  together  at  the  club  and 
then  adjourned  to  a  small  card-room,  where  they 
were  occasionally  joined  by  a  naval  gentleman.  The 
[298] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


three  friends  had  founded  a  league,  the  Anti-Papal 
League,  with  the  object  of  resisting  the  encroachments 
of  the  Eomish  religion  in  this  country ;  they  had  also 
started  a  journal  entitled  the  Anti-Papist  Their 
deliberations  were  as  a  rule  conducted  in  a  friendly 
spirit ;  but  after  the  third  decanter  of  port  had  been 
served  them  they  were  apt  to  make  a  great  deal  of 
noise.  Upon  the  evening  in  question  a  dispute  had 
arisen  between  the  two  military  gentlemen  regarding 
the  niece  of  one  of  them,  Colonel  Fitzgower,  the 
Major  declaring  that  she  was  on  terms  of  intimacy 
(only  he  used  a  coarser  word)  with  a  well-known 
Roman  Catholic  priest.  The  Major  went  on  to  say 
that  as  this  pair  were  pushing  the  interests  of  the 
Romish  religion  with  great  success,  it  was  the  duty  of 
the  League,  through  its  journal,  the  Anti-Papist,  to 
acquaint  the  world  with  the  nature  of  their  relation- 
ship. At  this  point  the  naval  gentleman  quitted  the 
room.  The  Colonel  thereupon  threatened  to  desert 
the  League,  to  which  the  Major  returned  that  he 
might  do  so  or  not  as  he  pleased,  but  that  the  rela- 
tionship between  his  niece  and  the  Romish  priest 
should  be  shown  up  in  the  Anti-Papist.  The  Colonel 
then  roared  out  an  oath,  upon  which  his  companion 
hurled  a  decanter-stopper  at  him,  hitting  him  in  the 
cheek.  Here  the  waiter  entered  and  remonstrated 
with  the  irate  warriors,  who  paid  no  heed  to  him; 
indeed,  while  he  was  speaking,  the  Major  went  for 
his  antagonist,  who  was  a  younger  and  much  more 
powerful  man.  The  waiter  then  rushed  between  the 
pair,  and  received  the  blows  that  stunned  him. 
[299] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


The  paragraph  in  the  journal,  which  had  so  pro- 
foundly moved  the  Eector  at  Cardinal's  House,  was 
the  work  of  the  lady  who  wrote  under  the  name  of 
"Goodie."  It  appealed  to  lovers  of  the  romantic, 
demanding  their  sympathy  on  behalf  of  the  priest  and 
the  lady  whose  attachment  had  led  to  the  disgraceful 
encounter  between  the  two  military  men.  "Goodie," 
as  most  people  knew,  was  Mrs.  Wimpole. 

Late  one  evening,  a  few  days  after  Monsignor's  visit 
to  the  Cardinal,  the  Bishop  of  Winton  called  in 
Eaton  Square  and  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
his  sister. 

"Is  Eva  here!  "  he  asked,  without  any  preliminary 
greeting. 

"No;  she  is  dining  out  with  Emma  pOady  Brain- 
tree].     Ah,  you  have  bad  news!     What  is  it! " 

Her  brother  handed  her  a  paper,  indicating  an 
extract  under  the  heading  "Police  Court  Intelli- 
gence." 

Lady  Caterham's  forehead  worked  angrily  as  she 
read.  "Ah!  a  fight.  A  vulgar  brawl!"  she  cried, 
and  putting  the  paper  aside  she  gave  vent  to  a  hollow 
laugh.  "Have  you  seen  him  I  'No,  of  course  you 
haven't.  He  has  run  away.  But  what  was  the  fight 
about?" 

Without  a  word  the  Bishop  handed  her  a  copy  of 
the  Comet. 

She  was  silent  a  moment  after  she  had  read  it,  and 

then  she  burst  into  a  torrent  of  reproaches  against 

her  niece.     "  Oh !  she's  mad — ^mad ! "  she  cried.     "  She 

has  brought  this  upon  herself  by  her  ridiculous  con- 

[300] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


duct.  Everybody  will  believe  it.  She's  ruined! 
ruined ! " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  her  brother.  "No  one  will  believe 
it." 

"Everybody  will  believe  it." 

They  discussed  the  matter  for  some  minutes,  the 
Bishop  calmly,  his  sister  vehemently.  "Well,  you 
must  take  her  in  hand,"  said  Lady  Caterham.  "I 
have  done  all  I  could  to  save  her  from  her  suicidal 
folly,  but  she  never  pays  the  slightest  attention  to 
what  I  say.  You  had  better  take  her  to  Winton — if 
she'll  go.  Oh !  but  she's  logical  enough, "  the  speaker 
went  on  in  a  sarcastic  tone.  "  She  thinks  of  the  other 
world;  all  religious  people  do  so,  or  should  do  so. 
She'll  be  glad  that  her  name's  tarnished;  she'll 
accept  it  as  a  cross ! "  And  in  her  irritation  and 
bitterness  Lady  Caterham  went  on  to  inveigh  against 
religious  people,  who,  if  sincere,  must  needs  be 
unpractical,  unsuccessful,  and  exasperating. 

When  at  length  the  Bishop  managed  to  lead  her 
away  from  the  subject,  she  spoke  of  her  anxiety 
regarding  Lady  Newark.  "I  meet  her  occasionally 
and  she's  polite  enough,  but  she's  out  when  I  call 
and  deaf  to  my  appeals.  That  set  is  preying  upon 
her.  Alec  has  quitted  the  country ;  the  partnership 
between  him  and  Mrs.  Wimpole  has  come  to  an  end, 
and  she  has  joined  Moosmeyer;  but  Tanworth's 
widow  practically  keeps  up  the  stable.  They  swindle 
her,  of  course.  Little  Newark  is  living  in  North 
Kensington;  I  called  at  the  house,  but  was  not 
allowed  to  see  him.  But  we  must  think  of  Eva. 
[301] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


What's  to  be  done  with  her?    Reason  with  her,  you 
say?    That  will  do  no  good." 

"We  must  point  out  to  her  the  consequences  of  her 
rash  conduct.  We  must  call  her  attention  to  this 
horrible  news,  make  her  realise  what  it  means,  and 
persuade  her  to  leave  town  or  even  the  country  for  a 
while.  If  she  has  not  lost  her  senses  she  will  listen 
to  us.  Again,  we  might  point  out  to  her  that  in  the 
long  run  she  will  probably  do  more  harm  than  good 
to  the  Romish  Church.  With  regard  to  Tan  worth's 
widow  and  Mrs.  Wimpole,  I  fancy  that  you  are 
exaggerating,  my  sister.  Mrs.  Wimpole  may  not  be 
in  all  respects  an  exemplary  woman,  but  she  is 
received  at  Court  and  mixes  in  good  society,  and  I 
decline  to  believe  that  that  would  happen  if  she  were 
the  depraved  character  you  represent  her  to  be.  I 
do  not  go  out  much  nowadays,  but  I  have  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  society  has  become  corrupt.  English 
gentlemen  and  English  ladies,  those  I  mean  who  set 
the  standard  in  matters  of  taste  and  manners,  would 
decline  to  receive  an  abandoned  woman.  No,  no, 
you  are  mistaken,  Helen.  Take  my  word  for  it,  the 
woman  is  far  better  in  Mrs.  Wimpole's  hands  than  in 
the  hands  of  the  Romish  clergy.  Ah,  my  sister,  we 
are  an  unfortunate  family!  God  in  His  inscrutable 
wisdom  has  allowed  blow  after  blow  to  fall  upon  our 
house.  Luckily  the  work  of  the  diocese  leaves  me 
little  time  to  dwell  upon  my  private  sorrows.  Arthur 
has  entered  a  Jesuit  college  in  Belgium!  Think  of 
what  that  means  to  me !  My  wife  lives  in  Rome  and 
indulges  in  the  grossest  superstition.  Ah!  poor 
[302] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Hood  is  a  true  prophet,  and  our  brother  Percy  is  not 
so  ridiculous  as  we  are  apt  to  think  him.  The 
Romish  Church  is  the  great  foe.  I  believe  her  power 
to  be  greater  now  than  at  any  time  in  the  century ;  a 
third  of  the  clergy  of  my  diocese  are  propagating 
Romish  doctrines,  but  they  elude  me,  their  methods 
are  so  subtle,  so  underhand.  The  majority  of  them, 
I  must  do  them  the  justice  to  say,  are  not  conscious 
of  where  they  are  drifting,  or  that  they  are  preparing 
the  way  for  Rome's  triumph.  Atheism,  the  rankest 
materialism  is,  I  firmly  believe,  less  offensive  in 
God's  sight  than  Romanism,  which  indeed  is  mate- 
rialism of  the  most  loathsome  kind.  But  no  one  heeds 
me.  My  brother  bishops  regard  me  as  a  noisy 
demagogue. " 

At  this  point  a  servant  entered  and  handed  Lady 
Caterham  some  letters  on  a  salver.  "  Kindly  pardon 
me,"  said  she  to  her  brother,  and  selecting  one  of  the 
missives  she  opened  the  envelope  and  glanced  at  the 
enclosure. 

If  the  Bishop's  eyes  had  been  upon  her  he  would 
have  observed  that  she  was  pleased  by  what  she  read, 
and  even  as  it  was  he  noticed  an  improvement  in  her 
tone  when  she  next  spoke.  "Ah!  well,  we  must 
make  the  best  of  things,"  said  she.  "Perhaps  you 
are  right  and  people  will  not  pay  much  attention  to 
those  paragraphs.  I  don't  think  we  need  trouble 
Eva  about  them;  she  will  probably  see  them  and 
dismiss  them  from  her  mind  as  unworthy  of  consid- 
eration." 

"I  think  we  ought  to  warn  her,"  said  the  Bishop. 
[303] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"We  shall  do  more  harm  than  good  if  we  do. 
Besides  which,  Monsignor  Vancelour  will  now  be 
upon  his  guard ;  he's  a  priest,  and  whatever  priests 
are  they  are  not  fools. " 

"I  intend  to  invite  Eva  to  the  Palace,"  said  he 
firmly. 

"She'll  proselytise  your  servants  if  you  do.  Per- 
haps she'll  try  to  convert  you,"  added  Lady 
Caterham  with  a  forced  laugh.  "No,  no,  Bishop; 
we  are  attaching  too  much  importance  to  what  is  only 
a  trifling  matter."  And  she  pressed  her  point,  and 
at  length  persuaded  her  brother  not  to  speak  to  Eva 
upon  the  subject,  at  all  events  for  the  present. 

When  he  had  taken  his  departure  she  re-read  the 
missive  that  had  raised  her  spirits.  It  was  from  Sir 
Ealph  Vancelour,  and  consisted  in  a  request  that  she 
would  consent  to  see  the  writer  when  he  called.  She 
guessed  at  once  that  the  Baronet  intended  to  apply  to 
her  for  her  niece's  hand ;  but  it  puzzled  her  that  he 
should  have  fixed  the  Thursday  in  the  following  week 
for  his  visit.  "  I  suppose  that  he  wants  all  that  time 
to  pray  for  courage,"  she  reflected,  "^o  woman  in 
the  world  could  love  the  man,  but  fancy  how  the 
Church  would  benefit  from  an  alliance  between  my 
fanatical  niece  and  a  millionaire !  She  could  persuade 
him  to  devote  his  fortune  to  the  Cause ! " 


[304] 


CHAPTER  X 

SIR  RALPH'S  SUIT 

Sir  Ralph  Vancelour  had  met  Eva  frequently 
of  late,  and,  though  nothing  sentimental  had  passed 
between  them,  they  had  become  good  friends.  Upon 
ascertaining  from  his  uncle,  Monsignor,  that  it  was 
not  the  lady's  intention  to  become  a  nun,  the  Baronet 
had  determined  to  apply  at  once  to  Lady  Caterham 
for  her  niece's  hand ;  but  he  had  been  dissuaded  from 
that  course  by  Father  Macdonald,  to  whom  he  con- 
fided all  his  secrets  and  whose  advice  he  invariably 
followed.  The  priest  had  told  him  that  it  was  the 
custom  in  England  for  a  man  to  win  the  esteem  of 
a  lady  before  consulting  with  her  guardians;  the 
Baronet  had  mournfully  returned  that  he  had  no  idea 
how  to  set  about  that  process;  upon  which  Father 
Macdonald  had  undertaken  to  instruct  him. 

An  alliance  between  the  weak-minded  millionaire 
and  the  strong-minded  and  intensely  fervent  Catholic 
lady  was  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished,  but, 
as  Father  Macdonald  realised,  difficult  to  bring  about. 
Sir  Ralph  was  a  good  man  and  simple  (simplicity  was 
a  great  virtue  in  a  layman),  but  he  was  not  attractive, 
nay,  to  be  frank,  he  was  such  a  blunderer  and  such  a 
boor  that  it  was  almost  inconceivable  that  any  woman 
of  spirit  could  love  him.  Father  Macdonald  was  not 
30  [  305  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


overburdened  with  sentimentality,  however,  and  he 
thought  that  love  on  the  man's  side  and  kindly 
regard  on  the  woman's  were  sufficient  affection  for  a 
marriage  in  all  other  respects  so  desirable.  He 
therefore  taught  Sir  Ralph  how  to  comport  himself 
in  the  presence  of  the  lady,  what  to  say,  when  to 
be  silent,  how  to  look ;  and  the  Baronet  carried  out 
his  instructions.  Poor  Sir  Ralph!  How  hard  he 
worked!  How  hard  he  tried  to  be  an  ordinary 
gentleman!  And  poor  Father  Macdonald,  who  had 
to  listen  to  minut«  descriptions  of  the  lady's  bearing, 
glances,  remarks,  and  to  decipher  them  for  his  very 
dull  "son"!  However,  a  result  quite  remarkable  in 
the  circumstances  was  attained :  by  strictly  carrying 
out  the  astute  injunctions  of  the  priest  Sir  Ralph  had 
won  Eva's  kindly  regard,  and  that  was  the  strongest 
feeling  that  he  could  expect  to  rouse  in  her  before 
wedlock,  in  the  opinion  of  Father  Macdonald. 

Recent  events  had  increased  Father  Macdonald's 
anxiety  that  the  pair  should  marry.  From  the  first 
he  had  dreaded  Eva's  magnificent  eyes  and  form. 
Such  remarkable  attractions  were  safe  in  the  convent 
and  more  or  less  safe  under  the  guardianship  of  a 
husband;  their  constant  exhibition  in  the  precincts 
of  a  church  was  fraught  with  danger.  Not  that 
Father  Macdonald  or  Cardinal  Grimsby  (no  doubt 
these  two  exchanged  remarks  upon  the  subject) 
feared  that  Monsignor  would  break  his  vows ;  what 
they  dreaded  was  the  "  chatter  of  the  world, "  and  the 
world,  Catholic  and  otherwise,  was  chattering  and  the 
paragraphs  in  the  newspapers  were  calculated  to  add 
[306] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


volume  to  the  chatter.  Accordingly,  Father  Mac- 
donald  advised  Sir  Ealph  to  write  at  once  to  Lady 
Caterham,  asking  her  to  grant  him  an  interview ;  and 
the  Baronet  did  as  he  was  told. 

Sir  Ralph's  next  meeting  with  his  uncle  took  place 
eight  days  after  the  appearance  of  the  momentous 
paragraphs,  and  much  had  happened  in  that  interval. 
Several  journals  with  large  circulations  had  given 
hints  and  particulars  regarding  the  well-known 
Catholic  priest  and  the  beautiful  society  lady  whose 
affairs  had  led  to  the  disgraceful  personal  encounter 
between  the  two  retired  guardsmen.  The  tone  of 
most  of  them  was  that  of  assumed  sympathy  with  the 
priest  and  the  lady,  whose  romantic  attachment,  amid 
beautiful  surroundings,  must  appeal  to  all  readers 
except  fanatical  Romanists.  Mortimer  recognised  in 
several  of  them  the  phraseology  of  Mrs.  "Wimpole. 
"  The  lady  was  quite  too  lovely ! "  he  read,  choking 
with  disgust ;  and  upon  making  inquiries  of  a  friend 
he  learned  that  Mrs.  Wimpole  was  upon  the  staff  of 
a  well-known  society  paper,  was  quit«  a  personage  in 
the  journalistic  world,  and  considered  an  authority 
upon  finance  and  horse-racing,  as  well  as  upon  "the 
manners  and  doings  of  the  upper  ten."  Nor  was  this 
all.  Lady  Newark  had  given  a  "Small  and  Early" 
during  the  week,  which  had  been  attended  chiefly  by 
her  co-religionists,  whom  she  had  reminded,  with  an 
air  of  triumph,  of  the  fears  she  had  expressed  to 
them  months  ago  concerning  her  sister-in-law's 
attachment  to  the  Rector  of  St.  Peter's.  The  scandal 
was  spreading  like  wildfire.  Over  a  dozen  Catholic 
[307] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


men  asked  Mortimer  if  "it  could  be  true? "  and  the 
Misses  ffennel  and  other  gossipy  women  took  him 
aside  and  whispered:  "Isn't  it  dreadful?  What  will 
they  do  f  I  never  believed  in  her !  Poor  Monsignor ; 
he  isn't  so  much  to  blame!"  It  would  seem,  how- 
ever, that  Eva  herself  did  not  hear  of  the  rumours 
and  reports  till  a  few  days  later,  a  fact  that  may  have 
been  due  to  the  awe  she  inspired  in  her  companions. 
Accordingly,  when  she  chanced  to  meet  Monsignor 
after  Benediction  one  day  she  was  struck  by  the 
peculiar  solemnity  of  his  manner,  and  acutely  hurt 
when  he  advised  her  in  future  to  seek  the  spiritual 
counsel  of  Father  Macdonald.  He  pleaded  a  rush  of 
work,  and  stated  that  in  a  week  or  two  he  might  have 
to  quit  the  metropolis.  His  tone  was  strange,  he 
seemed  anxious  to  quit  her,  and  the  meeting  did  not 
last  more  than  a  few  minutes. 

There  is  no  necessity  to  analyse  the  feelings  of  the 
Rector.  The  blow  staggered  him,  and  he  was  still 
reeling  from  the  effects  of  it  when  his  nephew 
acquainted  him  with  his  matrimonial  aspirations: 
this  may  be  held  in  excuse  for  the  part  he  took  in 
the  interview. 

Sir  Ralph  was  a  terrible  bore.  He  began  by  assert- 
ing that  it  was  the  duty  of  a  man  in  his  position  to 
marry ;  described  at  great  length  the  injunctions  which 
his  dying  mother — God  rest  her  soul ! — had  given  him 
in  regard  to  his  choice  of  a  wife,  went  on  to  say  that 
he  had  consulted  Father  Macdonald  upon  the  subject, 
and  finally,  after  an  interminable  amount  of  verbiage, 
gave  his  uncle  the  name  of  the  favoured  lady. 
[308] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Monsignor's  first  feeling  was  astonishment,  and  he 
asked  the  young  man  whether  the  lady  had  betrayed 
any  sign  that  she  loved  him.  The  Baronet  replied 
that  she  had  not,  that  it  would  have  been  very 
astonishing  and  altogether  incorrect  if  she  had. 
"How  could  she  show  love  for  me  till  she  knew  my 
intentions'?"  he  asked.  "She's  a  well-bred  woman. 
She  likes  me.  Father  Macdonald — I  mean  I  think 
so,  and  if  I  am  accepted  by  her  people  as  her  suitor  I 
fancy  she  will  allow  me  to  pay  my  addresses  to  her." 

"I  doubt  it.  Your  ideas  are  Continental,  Ealph"; 
and  glancing  at  his  nephew's  ungainly  figure, 
Monsignor  shook  his  head  in  a,  hopeless  fashion.  "  I 
am  afraid  that  you  have  no  chance,"  he  went  on.  "I 
wish  you  had — sincerely.  You  have  bestowed  your 
affection  on  a  worthy  object,  but " 

"I  am  in  a  position  to  make  handsome  settlements. 
I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  satisfy  Lady  Caterham." 

"  But  you  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  Lady  Eva 
cares  for  you." 

"Do  you  mean,  Uncle,  that  there's  another  man?  " 

"No." 

"She  has  rejected  many  of  our  people,"  said  the 
Baronet,  "  and  that  rather  looks —  You  don't  think 
she  likes  Mortimer,  do  you?  " 

Monsignor  shook  his  head. 

"My  position  is  as  good  as  hers.  .  .  .  Ah!  I  have 
sometimes  thought — ^but  that's  absurd.  It  is  very 
unusual  for  English  ladies  to  marry  beneath  them, 
isn't  it T" 

"  Yes ;  but  such  mSsallianees  occasionally  take  place. " 
[309] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"Is  Lady  Eva  the  sort  of  girl ?  " 

"I  don't  think  that  she  contemplates  marriage  at 
all." 

"You  can  never  be  sure,"  said  the  young  man 
sapiently,     "  I  have  sometimes  thought " 

"Well,  what  have  you  thought!" 

"That  there's  another  man." 

"Who?" 

"Keramur." 

"Keramur!  Keramur!"  repeated  the  priest,  and 
an  expression  of  relief  came  to  his  face,  but  quickly 
vanished. 

"I  know  he  loves  her,"  pursued  Sir  Ralph,  and 
then  with  some  spite:  "He has  impudence  enough  for 
anything !  Oh !  I  can  tell  you,  he  thinks  himself  my 
equal." 

"In  most  respects  he  is  your  superior,"  said  the 
priest  quietly. 

"But  he's  an  or — organist! " 

"True,  and  organists  don't  marry  noble  ladies." 

"And — and  he  thinks  that  he  helped  to  make  her 
a  Catholic,  and — and  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  things! 
And  they  see  a  lot  of  each  other.  And — Uncle,  why 
don't  you  put  a  stop  to  it!    He's  compromising  her." 

"You  are  making  a  very  foolish  exhibition  of 
yourself,  Ralph.  Your  jealousy  is  childish.  Go  to 
Lady  Caterham,  and  I  hope  that  your  suit  will 
prosper.  You  want  to  know  if  I  approve  your 
choice!    Yes,  I  do.     Good-bye,  my  dear  fellow." 

They  grasped  hands,  and  Sir  Ralph  was  moving 
towards  the  door  when  Monsignor  called  him  back. 
[310] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


"You — are — a — very  rich,  indeed,  a  very  wealthy 
man,  Ealph,"  said  the  priest,  twitching  his  features 
and  speaking  with  hesitation.  "With  your  wealth 
you  could  do  much — very  much — to  help  the  Catholic 
cause  in  this  country.  That  cause  Lady  Eva  has  at 
heart.  She  would  die  for  it."  There  ensued  a  pause 
that  lasted  over  a  minute ;  after  which :  "Do  you  love 
her  very  much,  Ralph? "  asked  Monsignor. 

"  I — I  love  her  with  all  my  soul !  "  cried  the  young 
man;  "but  I  can't  say  it — I  mean  I  can't  say  it 
properly.  I  know  it  now,  I  didn't  know  it  before, 
that  I'm  a  fool,  that  I've  got  nothing  but  my  religion 
and  my  money.  My  dear  mother — God  rest  her  soul ! 
— thought  too  much  of  me.  I'm  not  worthy  of  Lady 
Eva;  she  is  like  my  mother,  a  saint  and  beautiful, 
and  everyone  must  love  her.  How  could  she  love 
me?  How  could  anyone  love  me  except  Blackie? 
And  even  he — something's  wrong  with  him,  some- 
body's been  tampering  with  him.  He  barks  when  I 
say  '  Pope. '  But  that's  a  trifle.  Love  her !  God 
knows  that  I  love  her  and  that  I  would  give  her  all 
that  I  have.  If  she  won't  have  me,  she  shall  have 
my  money  and  do  what  she  likes  with  it.  I  sha'n't 
want  it  then ;  I  shall  become  a  monk  or  a  Jesuit — if 
the  Society  will  have  me." 

Badly  expressed  as  this  was,  it  testified  to  an 
improvement  in  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  man, 
an  improvement  due  to  the  influence  of  a  pure, 
unselfish  love.  His  sainted  mother  had  warned  him 
against  the  passion,  but  his  conscience  told  him  that 
the  affection  he  bore  for  Lady  Eva  was  right  and 
[311] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


good;  and  he  went  on  to  say  so,  in  his  strange 
fashion,  to  tell  Monsignor  that  he  had  consulted  his 
Maker  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  upon  the  subject, 
that  the  Saviour  and  the  Mother  of  the  Saviour 
had  spoken  in  his  heart  and  sanctioned  his  love, 
but  that  no  definite  promise  of  success  had  been 
vouchsafed  him.  The  lady  might  reject  him,  in 
which  case  he  would  retire  altogether  from  the 
world.  Father  Macdonald  having  undertaken  to  pro- 
vide a  home  for  Blackie. 

The  fine  countenance  of  the  priest  was  ruffled,  and 
his  manner  hesitating.  "I  see,''  he  observed.  "If 
the  lady  consented  to  marry  you,  you  would  allow  her 
to  dispose  of  your  money  as  she  thought  fit." 

"Why,  certainly!  She  may  build  half  a  dozen 
cathedrals  with  it  if  she  likes ! " 

"Then  tell  her  so,  Ealph!  Tell  her  sol  That  is 
your  best  chance.     Good-bye !    Good-bye ! " 

But  when  his  nephew  had  departed,  Monsignor's 
conscience  troubled  him.  The  advice  he  had  given 
the  young  man  was  not  quite  honourable. 

Poor  Lady  Caterham!  She  worshipped  success, 
and  her  life  since  her  widowhood  had  been  an  utter 
failure.  All  her  hopes  were  now  fixed  upon  the 
union  of  her  niece  and  the  wealthy  Baronet ;  if  they 
were  defeated  she  intended  to  let  her  town  home  in 
order  to  pay  her  debts,  and  to  seek  some  remote 
place  in  the  country.  Meanwhile  she  guessed  that 
the  scandalous  rumours  had  reached  Eva,  whose  face 
wore  a  look  of  tragic  sadness ;  but  nothing  was  said 
[312] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


upon  the  subject  by  either  lady,   their  intercourse 
having  become  strictly  formal. 

Sir  Ralph  did  not  appear  to  such  advantage  at  his 
interview  with  Lady  Caterham  as  at  his  meeting  with 
Monsignor.  Upon  entering  the  Red  Drawing-room 
in  the  house  in  Eaton  Square,  he  found  his  hostess 
awaiting  him,  and  after  the  introductory  greetings  he 
stood  facing  her  with  his  head  bent  and  his  hat,  cane, 
and  gloves  in  his  hand.  She  motioned  him  to  a  seat, 
but  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  gesture;  assumed 
a  solemn,  pompous  air,  and  began  with  a  detailed 
account  of  his  sainted  mother's  wishes  in  regard  to 
his  future  wife.  She  was  to  be  of  the  faith,  the  scion 
of  a  royal  stock,  rich,  convent  bred,  and  the  god- 
child of  his  Holiness.  Now  Lady  Eva  did  not  satisfy 
all  these  conditions,  he  observed,  but  in  spite  of  that 
he  wished  to  become  her  suitor. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Caterham.  "Won't  you  put 
down  your  hat  and  sit  down!  " 

He  ignored  the  question. 

"I  understand  that  you  are  a  rich  man,  Sir  Ralph," 
said  she. 

"  My  fortune  has  been  exaggerated. " 

"  Indeed ! "  said  she,  and  her  countenance  fell. 

"I  have  no  land,  and  my  lawyers  tell  me  that  I 
could  not  lay  my  hands  on  a  larger  sum  than  eight 
hundred  thousand  pounds." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  could  realise  that  amount 
at  once!" 

"Yes.  But  pardon  me;  I  se«  that  the  subject  is 
distasteful  to  you." 

[313]  ^ 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"But  it  isn't!  It  isn't!  Have  you  consulted  with 
Monsignor  Vancelour  or  with  Father  Macdouald ! " 

"With  both,  and  they  support  me." 

"I  have  always  had  a  secret  liking  for  Eomish 
priests,"  she  thought. 

"  And  now  the  question  is,  Do  you  favour  my  suit!  " 
asked  the  Baronet. 

"Yes ;  I  should  like  to  see  you  married  to  my  niece. 
It  is  better  to  be  frank  in  these  matters.  By-the-by, 
she  has  some  money  of  her  own,  about  forty  thousand 
pounds.  But  it  is  only  fair  to  you  to  say  that  I  have 
very  little  influence  over  her." 

"Still  you  allow  me  to  pay  my  addresses  to  her?  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  Then  she  meditated  for  a  while. 
"Please  put  down  your  hat  and  take  a  seat, "said  she. 
"Now,  it  is  of  course  in  your  favour  that  you  are  a 
Catholic,  Sir  Ealph,  for,  as  you  know,  my  niece  is  an 
enthusiastic  member  of  the  Eoman  Church;  and  I 
suppose  that  I  may  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are — 
well,  consumed  with  some  such  zeal  as  she  is,  or 
rather  that  if  you  married  her  you  would  be  ?  It  is  a 
little  difficult  to  express." 

"I  understand.     I  love  Lady  Eva  sincerely." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course  you  do,  but " 

"  She  may  build  half  a  dozen  cathedrals  with  my 
money  if  she  likes." 

Lady  Caterham  glanced  up  at  him  quickly,  and 
there  was  genuine  admiration  in  her  eyes.  "Then — 
why,  then — then  tell  her  so ! "  she  cried. 

He  started.  "Why,  that's  exactly  what  my  uncle 
saidl "  escaped  his  lips. 

[314] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


Again  she  inwardly  admitted  a  secret  liking  for 
the  priests.  But  upon  taking  stock  of  the  Baronet 
her  face  changed  its  expression.  Would  her  high- 
spirited  niece  accept  this  awkward  creature  even 
upon  the  condition  that  she  should  be  allowed  to 
spend  his  fortune  upon  the  Church?  No,  no.  And 
yet,  why  not?  Unquestionably  she  would  die  for  the 
Church,  and  an  early  death  was  surely  a  worse  fate 
than  marriage  with  a  man  for  whom,  after  all,  she 
felt  no  repugnance.  Now  Lady  Caterham  herself  had 
experienced  such  a  feeling  for  the  Manchester  cotton- 
spinner  and  sound  party  man,  James  Brown  (subse- 
quently Lord  Caterham),  and  yet  she  had  married 
him  of  her  own  free  will.  As  a  girl  she  would  have 
married  such  a  man  as  Sir  Ealph,  and  joined  his 
church,  and  built,  not  half  a  dozen  cathedrals,  but  a 
small  chapel  with  cheap  materials.  It,  however,  oc- 
curred to  her  that  her  marriage  with  James  Brown 
had  been  hurried  through  at  her  own  request,  that 
she  had  felt  that  though  she  could  bear  with  that 
person  as  a  husband  she  could  not  abide  him  as  a 
lover ;  and  she  thought  that  a  similar  feeling  would 
be  experienced  by  Eva  in  regard  to  Sir  Ealph 
Vancelour.  The  Baronet  as  a  wooer  was  an  appalling 
conception;  no  girl  could  pass  through  such  an 
ordeal  as  his  love-making ! 

"I  have  told  you.  Sir  Ealph,  that  I  should  be  glad 
to  see  you  married  to  my  niece,"  said  she  aloud. 
"She  is,  as  you  know,  the  daughter  of  a  man  of  whom 
England  is  proud,  her  position  is  equal  to  that  of  any 
woman  in  the  land  under  Eoyalty,  and  her  personal 
[315] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


attractions  are  admitted  by  everyone  to  be  very  great. 
I  see,  however,  much  that  is  ap — appropriate  in — in 
the  arrangement  we  are  discussing.  You  are  a 
reasonable  man.  Sir  Ealph;  you  are  a  prominent 
member  of  the  Catholic  body,  you  have  the  interests 
of  the  Church  at  heart,  and  you  think  they  will  be 
advanced  by  your  marriage  with  my  niece.  My  niece 
is  also  reasonable — I  mean  she  acts  according  to 
design,  according  to  a  certain  definite  plan ;  she  has 
the  same  interests  at  heart  that  you  have ;  and  what 
you  must  do  is  to  impress  upon  her  the  fact  that  the 
Catholic  cause  would  be  served  by  her  marrying  you. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  I  prepared  her " 

"I  would  sooner  that  you  did  not,  that  you  said 
nothing  to  her  about  the  matter,"  said  he  with 
hauteur.  "  I  wish  to  marry  Lady  Eva  because  I  love 
her,  not  because  our  marriage  would  serve  the 
interests  of  the  Church.  I  ask  your  permission  to  be 
allowed  to  pay  my  addresses  to  her,  that  is  all.  It  is 
not  probable,  but  it  is  perhaps  not  altogether  impos- 
sible that  I  might  get  her  to — to— to  like  me  a  little. " 

His  companion  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  wish  to 
hurt  your  feelings.  Sir  Ralph,"  said  she,  "but  if  you 
attempt  to  win  my  niece's  love  before  marriage  you 
will  fail  in — in  your  main  object.  As  a  rule,  it  is 
not  advisable  to  allude  to  such  things,  but  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  that  several  Catholic  gentlemen  have 
tried  to  win  her  affection,  and  have  failed.  The 
reason  is  quite  simple :  all  her  love  is  fixed  upon  the 
Church.  I  give  you  the  same  advice  that  your  clergy 
gave  you.  They  and  I  understand  her. " 
[316] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Sir  Ealph  pondered  this.  He  wanted  the  lady's 
love,  but  he  reflected  that  perhaps  Father  Macdonald 
was  right  and  that  he  might  obtain  it  after  marriage. 
Marriage  was  a  sacrament  ordained  by  God  and 
worked  wonders.  "Well,  at  any  rate,  I  would  sooner 
tell  her  all  that  myself  than  that  you  should,"  he 
observed.  "Yes,  yes,"  he  added  with  decision.  "I 
would  sooner  that  you  said  nothing  about  it,  and  I 
must  ask  you  to  respect  my  wishes. " 

She  knitted  her  brows.  Suddenly  a  thought  came 
to  her.  "Couldn't you  get  one  of  the  priests  to  speak 
for  you?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"No,"  said  he  curtly.  "No;  I  shall  speak  for 
myself.  I  shall  consult  Father  Macdonald  again,  and 
if  he  advises  me  to  declare  myself  at  once  I  shall  do 
so ;  if  he  does  not  I  must  ask  you  to  allow  me  to  see 
you  again.  I — I  don't  think  there  is  anything  more 
to  be  said." 

Her  tone  had  jarred  upon  him,  and  he  had  taken  a 
sudden  dislike  to  her.  The  idea  had  gradually 
formed  itself  in  his  mind  that  he  was  being  advised 
to  bribe  the  girl  into  marrying  him;  and  upon 
quitting  Lady  Caterham  and  repairing  to  Father 
Macdonald,  he  acquainted  the  priest  with  this  idea 
and  with  the  scruples  it  roused  in  him.  The  priest's 
attempt  to  reassure  him  was  not  altogether  successful ; 
and  when  he  received  a  letter  from  Lady  Caterham 
the  next  morning,  in  which  she  begged  him  to  arrange 
a  meeting  between  her  and  Monsignor  Vancelour  or 
Father  Macdonald,  the  Baronet  grew  angry.  He 
wrote  her  a  short,  curt  note  to  say  that  he  hoped  to 
[317] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


call  in  Eaton  Square  that  afternoon  and  lay  his 
proposal  before  Lady  Eva  herself. 

It  would  seem  that  Lady  Caterham  had  disobeyed 
his  injunction  (after  all,  he  had  had  no  right  to  give 
it  to  her)  and  had  spoken  to  Eva  upon  the  subject  of 
the  forthcoming  proposal,  for  upon  entering  the 
drawing-room  in  Eaton  Square  Sir  Ralph  observed 
that  the  girl  wore  an  embarrassed  air  and  glanced 
frequently  at  her  aunt,  as  though  requesting  her  not 
to  leave  her  alone  with  the  visitor.  Hope  died  within 
the  young  man,  and  when  the  older  lady  quitted  the 
room  upon  some  pretext  he  did  not  hear,  he  felt 
himself  unable  to  speak.  Eva's  face  was  eloquent: 
it  implored  him  not  to  make  the  proposal ;  but  it  was 
very  kind  and  gentle. 

"Lady  Caterham  has  told  you — - — "  he  began,  at 
length. 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted,  "and  I  hope.  Sir  Ralph, 
that  you  will  not  be  hurt,  but  it  is  quite  impossible. 
I  could  not  for  a  moment  consider  what — what  you 
suggested  to  my  aunt,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  think 
me  harsh.  I  sincerely  tnist  that  I  have  never  said 
or  done  anything  that  you  have  misconstrued,  that 
I  have  never  given  you  the  slightest  ground  for 
supposing " 

"  Oh,  no!"  said  he  sadly.  "You've  only  been 
kind  to  me,  and  you're  kind  to  everybody.  But  I 
must  speak.  Lady  Eva,  I  must  say  it.  I  have  loved 
you  for  months  and  months,  and  though  I  have  had 
no  right  to  think  that  you  would  ever  marry  me,  I 
couldn't  help  hoping,  and  I  can't  give  up  hoping 
[318] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


now.  Let  me  go  ou  hoping  ?  "  he  implored.  "  Per- 
haps you  might  get  to  like  me  a  little.  You  would 
not  be  bound,  and  I  shouldn't  bother  you.  You  might 
let  me  see  you  now  and  then.     Do  let  me  go  on !  " 

"It  would  be  so  much  better  that  you  didn't. 
We  only  pain  each  other. " 

"Ah!  how  can  I  expect  you  to  care  for  me V  he 
exclaimed.  "But  mightn't  we  work  together,  devote 
ourselves  to  the  same  object?  I  should  always  do 
what  you  wanted." 

"It  is  quite  impossible,  Sir  Ealph,"said  she,  not 
so  gently  as  before,  "and  I  must  ask  you  to  spare  me. 
I  am  extremely  sorry  that — that  this  should  have 
happened,  but  let  us  say  nothing  more  about  it, 
please. " 

"  But  really,  really  I  might  be  of  use  to  you, "  he 
pleaded,  hating  to  say  what  he  had  been  told  to  say 
and  not  knowing  how  to  put  it  properly.  "The 
Church  would  sanction  our  union.  It  would  serve 
her  interests.  I  have  unlimited  control  over  my 
money,  and  I  should  make  it  over  to  you.  You 
would  do  anything  for  the  Church,  even — even 
perhaps,  after  a  little  thought,  marry  me,  and  then 
you  would  have  the  means  to  build  churches,  and 
help  the  poor,  and — and— do  no  end  of  good.  I  don't 
like  to  have  to  say  this " 

"You  have  no  right  to  say  it,"  she  interrupted, 
colouring.  "  It  is  extremely  ungenerous  and  unmanly 
of  you  to  say  it,  and  you  have  forfeited  my  respect. 
I  don't  suppose  that  you  realise  that  you  are  offering 

me  a  price " 

[319] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"No,  no!"  he  cried.  "I  don't  mean  it  in  that 
way ;  I  haven't  put  it  properly.  Alliances  have  been 
made  to  serve  the  interests  of  the  Church  over  and 
over  again,  just  as  they  have  been  made  to  serve 
political  interests.  Should  we  not  be  willing  to  do 
for  our  Church  what  many  people  are  willing  to  do 
for  their  country?  You  are  not  fair  to  me,  Lady 
Eva ;  there  is  nothing  dishonourable  in  my  proposal. 
Ladies  of  my  mother's  house  have  not  hesitated  to 
marry  in  obedience  to  the  advice  of  God's  priests.  I 
have  sought  counsel  of  my  adviser  and  of  my  uncle, 
who  saw  nothing  dishonourable  in  what  I  have  pro- 
posed to  you,  who  indeed  told  me  to  propose  it. " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Monsignor  Vancelour 
told  you  to  come  here  and  propose  th-that  to  met " 

"Yes,"  said  he. 

"I  don't  believe  it! "  she  cried.  "I  must  now  ask 
you  to  leave  me. "  Saying  which  she  rose  and  raug 
the  bell. 

The  inevitable  encounter  between  the  aunt  and 
niece  took  place  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day.  It 
was  begun  in  a  very  irritating  fashion  by  Lady 
Caterham.  "I  am  quite  sure  that  you  have  promised 
at  least  to  consider  Sir  Kalph's  proposal,"  said  she. 

"No,  my  aunt;  I  told  him  what  I  told  you,  that  it 
was  quite  impossible,  and  when  he  began  to  press  it  I 
had  to  ask  him  to  quit  me.  Please,  please  let  us  say 
nothing  more  about  it ! " 

"I  see.  Then,  after  all,  you're  a  faint-hearted 
-Catholic.  It  would  be  an  immense  advantage  to 
the  Church  if  you  married  Sir  Ealph.  And  you 
[320] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


don't  dislike  him ;  you  have  often  said  that  you  liked 
and  respected  him.  He  loves  you  and  is  ready  to 
prove  his  love  in  the  most  practical  fashion.  Mon- 
signor  Vancelour  favours  his  suit.  The  marriage 
would  be  a  very  appropriate  one.  Of  course  if  you 
thought  of  becoming  a  nun  it  would  be  different — or 
if  you  liked  another  man.  As  it  is  I  cannot  under- 
stand your  objection." 

"What  is  the  use  of  discussing  the  matter?  "  cried 
Eva  wearily.  "I  have  given  him  my  answer.  It  is 
final  and  he  knows  it." 

"But  did  he  tell  you  about  his  intentions?  " 

"Intentions!  Oh!  you  mean  about  the  money! 
Yes,  he  was  guilty  of  that  impertinence. " 

"But  it  wasn't,  it  wasn't  impertinent!  Three  out 
of  four,  nine  out  of  ten,  of  the  women  of  our  class 
make  reasonable  marriages.  They  must  do  so. 
Think  of  your  friends.  They  are  not  as  a  rule  forced 
into  marrying  men  they  dislike,  they  do  not  sell 
themselves,  but  they  marry  the  right  men  of  their  own 
choice.  Sir  Ealph  is  emphatically  the  right  man  in 
your  case.  I  don't  like  to  have  to  say  it,  but  you 
seem  to  me  to  be  blind.  Go  and  discuss  the  matter 
with  your  spiritual  director;  he  is  a  reasonable  man." 

"  I  intend  to  go  to  Monsignor  and  ask  him  how  he 
could  have  been  so  ungenerous  as  to  send  his  nephew 
to  me  with  that  insulting  proposal — if  he  did  send 
him,  for  I  can  hardly  believe  that  he  did.  But  let 
us  change  the  subject.  Indeed,  indeed,  my  aunt,  you 
must  pardon  me,  but  I  will  not  discuss  it ! " 

"Ah,  Eva!  we  must  discuss  it,  and  discuss  it  in  aU 
»1  [321] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


its  bearings.  You  must  do  me  the  justice  to  say  that 
I  have  rarely  interfered  in  your  affairs,  and — and, 
Eva,  that  you  have  not  always  been  kind  to  me  and 
your  other  relations. " 

"I  do  admit  that,"  said  the  girl,  "and  it  has  caused 
me  much  grief." 

"And  you  must  also  admit  that  in  going  your  own 
way  you  have  often  made  great  mistakes." 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  so.  There  seems  to  be  a  fatality 
about  it." 

"Your  motives  are  good,  but  your  acts  are  not 
judicious.  And — ah,  Eva,  we  must  come  to  the 
point!  My  niece,  my  niece,  you  have  terribly  mis- 
managed your  affairs.  You  have  heard  the  rumours, 
you  have  seen  the  papers,  you  know  what  people  are 
saying.  Monsignor  Vancelour's  reputation  is  also 
at  stake.  A  great  scandal  will  fall,  if  it  has  not 
already  fallen,  upon  your  Church.  Has  that  thought 
no  weight  with  you?  Do  you  realise  that  you  will 
have  done  much  more  harm  than  good  to  the  cause 
you  have  at  heart?  But  you  can  arrest  the  scandal, 
and  rehabilitate  your  name  and  the  priest's,  and  do 
wonders  for  the  cause,  by  accepting  Sir  Ealph 
Vancelour." 

Lady  Caterham  had  a  very  strong  case;  but  she 
had  better  have  left  it  here,  or  have  repeated  the 
arguments  she  had  already  used  in  another  form. 
Unfortunately  she  went  on  to  assert  that,  according 
to  the  latest  rumour,  her  niece  was  attached  not  to 
the  priest  but  to  his  nephew,  to  whom  she  was  about 
to  be  betrothed.  This  was  stated  so  incoherently 
[  322  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


that  Eva  did  not  at  first  catch  its  drift,  and  said  so, 
whereupon  Lady  Caterham,  with  a  blush,  handed  her 
a  copy  of  a  certain  journal,  which  circulated  exclu- 
sively among  the  vulgar — at  least  so  it  was  said. 
"It  is  a  common  print,  I  admit,"  she  faltered,  "but — 
but — but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  everyone  reads  it. 
Look  at  this  paragraph ! " 

The  paragraph  was  written  by  one  "Maud,"  who 
stated  that  she  had  heard  on  the  best  authority  that 
a  marriage  had  been  arranged  between  Sir  Ealph 
Vancelour,  the  wealthy  Catholic  baronet,  and  Eva 
Fitzgower,  only  daughter  of  the  first  Marquis  of 
Newark. 

The  girl's  suspicions  were  instantly  aroused. 
Looking  searchingly  at  her  aunt,  she  said,  "You 
caused  that  to  be  written. " 

"I  didn't!"  cried  the  older  lady.  "I  haven't  the 
least  notion  who  '  Maud  '  is. " 

"That  may  be;  but  you  sent  the  news  through 
Lady  Tremlow,  who  deals  in  this  sort  of  thing  and 
makes  money  by  it. " 

"I  didn't!"  repeated  the  other.  "I  didn't! 
I — "  Here  she  broke  down  and  shed  tears.  "You 
— you  must  be  saved  from  your — your  madness ! "  she 
cried.  "  I — I  was  desperate.  And  it's  true  or  going 
to  be  true.  You — you  must  marry  him !  You  shall 
not  be  allowed  to  bring  this  disgrace  upon  the  family 
and — and  your  Church.  You — you  are  an  innocent 
woman,  but  you  are  mad — mad!  Ah,  the  anxiety 
and  trouble  you  have  caused  us  all  since  you  were  a 
child !  Think  of  your  famUy,  if  you  won't  think  of 
[  323  ] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


your  Church,  or  your  good  name  or  the  priest's.  The 
Bishop  is  beside  himself  with  grief,  wifeless  and 
sonless.  Percy  has  publicly  disgraced  himself  and 
run  away;  Alec  has  run  away.  Tanworth's  widow 
has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an  unscrupulous  adven- 
turess who  will  end  by  ruining  her.  Little  Newark  is 
— where  is  he?  They  say  at  a  tutor's  or  with  the 
wife  of  a  tutor — for  he  is  still  an  infant ;  but  who  can 
tell  if  it's  true?" 

There  was  much  more  to  this  effect,  after  which 
she  again  implored  her  niece  to  reconsider  Sir  Ealph's 
proposal,  repeating  her  arguments  as  to  the  desira- 
bility, the  absolute  necessity,  of  the  match.  She  was 
a  desperate  woman,  as  she  said,  her  tongue  ran  away 
with  her,  she  lost  her  prudence,  aud  made  another 
unwise  admission.  After  stating  that  Sir  Ealph 
would  press  his  suit  again,  she  declared  that  she  had 
written  to  him  to  advise  him  not  to  lose  hope  if  her 
niece  rejected  him  upon  the  first  asking.  This  again 
roused  Eva's  indignation ;  she  reiterated  her  refusal  to 
give  another  thought  to  the  proposal,  whereupon 
Lady  Caterham  uttered  these  unforgivable  words: 
"Then  I  believe  that  you  do  love  the  priest!  Marry 
him !    The  law  allows  it ! " 

At  these  words  Eva  quitted  the  room,  and  her  aunt 
realised  that  henceforth  they  would  be  strangers. 


[324] 


CHAPTEE  XI 

THE    OLD    EVE 

Eva  was  to  look  back  upon  the  interesting  period 
of  her  history  as  the  record  of  a  struggle  between  her 
natural  self  and  the  influence  exerted  over  her  by  a 
great  spiritual  power.  Naturally,  so  to  speak,  she 
was  a  splendid  pagan,  proud,  masterful,  ambitious; 
she  had  rank,  beauty,  health,  and  money:  the  quali- 
ties and  possessions  that  were  calculated  to  win  her  a 
great  position  in  this  pagan  world.  But  a  terrible 
misfortune  had  been  sent  her  at  the  outset  of  her 
career  and  had  thrust  upon  her  a  sense  of  the  wicked- 
ness and  folly  of  the  world ;  religion  as  represented 
by  the  Catholic  Church  had  attracted  her,  forced 
itself  upon  her  attention ;  and  with  the  help  of  the 
grace  imparted  to  her  through  the  sacraments  she 
had  tried  to  kill  or  to  subdue  the  old  Eve  within  her. 
But  the  old  Eve  was  strong  and  cunning ;  like  the  old 
Adam  in  the  ecclesiastic  it  could  assume  a  religious 
aspect.  In  the  original  instance  it  had  led  her  to 
undertake  her  mission,  and  for  a  while  had  influ- 
enced her  in  her  campaign;  in  other  words,  her 
masterful  spirit,  her  love  of  imposing  her  will  upon 
others  and  compelling  them  to  follow  in  her  footsteps, 
had  entered  into  her  motives  in  making  converts  to 
the  Church  of  Eome.  The  world  looked  almost  with 
approval  upon  the  beautiful  propagandist,  and  she 
[325] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


enjoyed  her  mission  and  was  flattered  at  its  success ; 
but  when  the  world  began  to  look  upon  her  with  dis- 
trust and  hatred,  her  mission  could  not  be  continued 
but  at  the  cost  of  self-sacrifice,  and  only  for  a  short 
while  longer.  It  was  abundantly  evident  that  in  the 
near  future  the  field  would  be  closed  against  her,  that 
she  would  practically  be  ostracised  from  her  monde, 
and  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  she  could 
successfully  carry  on  her  propaganda  among  the 
bourgeoisie.  But  at  her  last  long  interview  with 
Monsignor  Vancelour  she  had  (in  obedience  to  his 
advice,  which  it  had  cost  him  a  great  effort  to  give 
her)  come  to  a  momentous  resolution :  she  had  chosen 
her  path,  the  path  that  leads  to  heaven  through  pain 
and  humiliation,  the  way  of  the  cross.  Thenceforth 
she  was  to  undertake  the  most  ungrateful  tasks  for 
Christ's  sake;  what  they  would  be  she  knew  not 
except  that  they  would  serve  the  cause  of  religion, 
would  be  difficult  to  execute,  and  would  presumably 
win  her  neither  admiration,  nor  celebrity,  nor  even 
respect.  In  other  words,  she  was  to  lead  a  life  of 
severe  self-denial.  Again,  Monsignor  had  warned 
her  against  the  subtle  temptation  that  assails  the  pious, 
the  temptation  to  indulge  and  take  refuge  in  spiritual 
pride,  that  awful  sin  by  which  the  angels  fell,  and 
which,  if  she  yielded  to  it,  would  render  her  abhorrent 
in  God's  sight ;  and  she  had  understood  his  warning. 
But  since  then  the  storm  had  burst.  The  scandal, 
which  had  been  spreading  for  months  in  secret,  was 
suddenly  noised  abroad  and  reached  her  ears.  At 
first  it  staggered  her,  as  it  had  staggered  Monsignor. 
[326] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


On  reflection  she  perceived  that,  though  it  sprang 
from  a  lie  or  a  misconception,  so  many  circumstances 
suggested  that  it  was  true  that  most  people  would 
believe  it ;  and  before  many  days  had  passed  she  knew 
that  most  people  did  believe  it.  To  contradict  it 
publicly  would  do  more  harm  than  good.  The  situa- 
tion was  in  truth  almost  as  desperate  as  Lady 
Caterham  had  described  it.  She  could  escape  from 
it,  indeed,  by  marrying  Sir  Ealph,  but  she  would  not 
take  that  course.  By-the-by,  had  Monsignor  sent  his 
nephew  to  her  with  that  unmanly  proposal  in  the 
hope  that  she  would  accept  it  and  thus  arrest  the 
scandal  ?  She  had  said  that  she  did  not  believe  that 
he  had,  but  she  did  believe  it. 

She  continued  with  her  meditations.  She  could 
not  for  a  long  time  to  come  mix  with  her  co-religion- 
ists, many  of  whom  had  regarded  her  with  suspicion 
and  most  of  whom  would  now  condemn  her.  Neither 
could  she  mix  in  general  society.  Society  would 
probably  not  condemn  her,  but,  on  the  contrary,  be  in 
a  mood  to  forgive  her  for  her  proselytism  and  all 
the  unhappiness  it  had  caused.  Society  would  rejoice 
in  the  thought  that  she  loved  the  priest  and  the  priest 
loved  her,  that  it  had  discovered  their  secret,  their 
romance ;  and  it  would  look  forward  to  their  marriage 
and  regard  it  as  a  triumph  of  humanity  over  an 
unnatural  ecclesiastical  system.  Nay,  if  the  marriage 
did  not  come  off  and  the  priest  were  to  vanish,  society 
would  pity  and  take  interest  in  her ;  but  such  pity 
and  interest  would  be  abhorrent  to  her;  the  mere 
thought  of  it  sent  a  flush  to  her  cheek. 

[  327  ]  -1 


THE  CATHOLIC 


She  would  have  to  go  away,  and  she  would  have  to 
bear  the  burden  of  her  coreligionists'  contempt  and 
the  curiosity  and  pity  of  the  world.  But  had  she  the 
strength  to  bear  it?  Well,  she  would  have  to  find 
the  strength.  She  was  tempted  and  she  fell.  The 
old  Eve  reasserted  itself.  Two  courses  were  open  to 
her,  and  she  chose  the  wrong  one.  She  might  have 
summoned  her  Christian  strength,  fortitude,  and  have 
suffered  injustice  for  Christ's  sake,  have  resigned 
herself  to  His  will.  She  might  have  accepted  the 
wrong  done  her  as  a  "cross,"  have  taken  it  up,  and 
proceeded  with  it  up  the  narrow  path.  She  did  make 
an  attempt  to  do  so,  but  the  "  cross  "  was  heavy,  and 
she  dropped  it.  Then  she  summoned  her  pagan 
strength,  pride,  and  suddenly  the  burden  seemed 
light. 

What  did  it  matter  what  the  world.  Catholic  or 
Protestant,  lay  or  clerical,  thought  of  her?  The 
world  outside  the  Church  was  unworthy  of  her  scorn, 
which  she  would  reserve  for  and  pour  out  upon  the 
world  within  it.  She  arraigned  the  whole  Catholic 
body,  or  rather  all  the  members  of  it  that  she  had 
known.  She  would  do  them  justice,  they  were  for 
the  most  part  respectable  people,  and  such  of  them 
as  were  in  Holy  Orders  kept  their  vows,  so  far  as  she 
knew,  administered  the  sacraments,  and  preached 
sound  doctrine.  But  how  lamentable  were  their  short- 
comings! They  exhorted  the  laity  to  win  people  to 
the  faith  and  to  encounter  the  opposition  of  the 
world,  but  they  did  not  mean  their  words  to  be  taken 
literally ;  they  dreaded,  they  feared  the  woman  who 
[328] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


took  them  literally,  regarded  her  as  an  enfant  terrible, 
gave  her  but  a  half-hearted  support,  and  when 
suspicion  fell  upon  her  abandoned  her  altogether. 
"With  the  thought  that  I  am  injudicious  they  will 
dismiss  me  from  their  minds ! "  she  inwardly 
exclaimed.  Now  they  were  loud  in  their  praise  of 
Lady  Purley's  work,  which  indeed  was  a  good  work, 
but  which  approved  itself  to  the  world  as  well  as  to 
the  Church,  and  which  therefore  they  showed  wisdom 
and  policy  in  praising.  For,  after  all,  they  as  well 
as  others,  though  not  quite  to  the  same  extent,  strove 
to  win  the  good  opinion  of  the  world,  and  they  did 
win  it,  and  for  the  most  part  they  deserved  it. 
English  Eoman  Catholic  priests  were  regarded  by  the 
majority  of  their  compatriots  as  mistaken  but  as  good 
men,  and  it  was  the  same  with  the  Eoman  Catholic 
laity.  There  was  still  an  immense  amount  of  bigotry 
in  the  land,  but  in  these  days  it  rarely  took  the  form 
of  ill-will  against  individuals.  Catholics  were  not 
persecuted.  She  was,  and  she  was  hated,  but  then 
she,  unlike  her  co-religionists,  lay  and  clerical,  did  not 
strive  after  the  world's  good  opinion.  She  had 
suflfered  the  world's  persecution,  and  she  had  the 
right  to  speak  her  mind  about  the  lamentable  world - 
liness  of  Catholics,  and  she  would  speak  it  to  a 
representative  priest,  to  Monsignor,  that  evening  if 
possible.  She  would  endeavour  to  be  calm,  but  as  a 
prophet  she  would  hold  forth  upon  the  degeneracy, 
the  utter  lack  of  zeal  of  the  Catholics  in  this  land. 
She  would  ask  him  how  he  could  expect  the  English 
people  to  return  to  their  allegiance  to  Eome  while 
[329] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


they  had  in  their  midst  such  wretched  examples  of 
Eome's  children?  The  English  were  a  proud  and  a 
great  race,  and  they  hated  the  Church,  which  was 
prouder  and  greater  than  they  (she  had  done  so  her- 
self) ;  but  they  might  yet,  aye  and  they  would, 
submit  if  Catholics  proved  themselves  worthy  of  the 
name.  She  should  know,  she  had  brought  many 
proud  Englishmen  and  Englishwomen  into  the 
Church.  She  would  say  all  this  to  Monsignor,  and 
then  she  would  shake  the  dust  from  her  feet,  quit  the 
country  and  enter  a  convent,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
there  what  she  had  failed  to  find  elsewhere.  Catholics 
worthy  of  her  friendship  I 


[830] 


CHAPTER  Xn 

LADY  EVA'S  ENCOUNTER  WITH  CAEDINAL   GRIMSBY 

She  made  her  plans.  She  would  call  for  the  last 
time  upon  the  Keramurs  and  bid  them  good-bye,  pay 
a  last  visit  to  St.  Peter's,  see  Monsignor  and  bring 
her  indictment  before  him,  and  make  arrangements 
for  quitting  town  at  a  moment's  notice. 

Upon  her  entering  the  breakfast-room  Lady  Brain- 
tree  handed  her  a  note  from  her  aunt,  who  begged 
her  niece's  pardon  for  the  words  she  had  uttered  last 
night,  complained  of  headache,  and  asked  the  girl  to 
visit  her  in  her  bedroom  some  time  in  the  morning. 
Eva  paid  no  heed  to  the  note,  had  her  breakfast,  and 
ordered  the  carriage.  She  would  prove  to  herself 
that  she  was  an  object  of  suspicion,  curiosity,  con- 
tempt, and  thus  justify  her  attitude  towards,  her 
condemnation  of,  her  fellows,  and  reinforce  her  desire 
to  quit  "the  world." 

The  weather  was  beautiful.  Eain  had  fallen  in  the 
night,  cool  winds  tempered  the  heat,  many  of  the 
early  flowers  were  still  in  bloom,  the  trees  wore  their 
heaviest  foliage;  it  was  a  time  of  ripeness,  zenith; 
the  promise  of  spring  was  fulfilled  and  much  of  its 
freshness  preserved.  The  annual  rush  from  the 
metropolis  had  not  yet  set  in.  The  Eow  and  Drive 
still  presented  animated  scenes,  and  the  pleasure- 
seekers  had  not  that  worn  and  haggard  look  which  in 
[331] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


most  years  creeps  over  them  as  the  season  nears  its 
end. 

Eva's  carriage  entered  the  Drive ;  she  gazed  for  the 
last  time  upon  the  fashionable  crowd,  her  monde; 
and  in  every  unamiable  countenance,  averted  head, 
stiff  attitude  read  the  evidence  she  sought.  If  a 
person  smiled  at  her  it  was,  she  told  herself,  in 
derision;  or  merely  nodded,  a  recognition  given 
reluctantly ;  or  saluted  her  with  grace  and  kindness, 
the  sign  of  a  charitable  disposition.  The  short- 
sighted gave  her  the  cut  direct,  the  long-sighted 
looked  past  her,  pretending  not  to  see  her.  And 
all  the  whisperings  were  about  herself;  and  the 
exchanges  of  glances,  the  movements  of  shoulders, 
the  play  of  features  had  reference  to  her — or  at  least 
so  she  thought,  no  doubt  mistakenly.  Meanwhile 
her  own  look  was  proud  and  scornful,  and  she 
returned  the  salutes  given  her  with  a  haughty  con- 
descending nod.  She  had  soon  gathered  the  proof 
she  needed,  and  ordered  her  coachman  to  drive  to  the 
Keramurs'.     When  he  had  done  so  she  dismissed  him. 

She  was  told  that  the  mother  and  son  were  within, 
and  upon  crossing  the  threshold  of  Madame  de 
Keramur's  boudoir  she  was  instantly  aware  of  its 
atmosphere  of  peace.  The  old  lady  was  reading, 
Ernest  writing  music.  He  rose  on  seeing  her,  came 
forward,  and  when  she  had  given  him  her  hand,  bent 
and  saluted  it  with  his  lips.  He  had  done  so  once 
before — when  she  had  announced  to  him  her  recep- 
tion into  the  Church  of  Eome — and  she  had  not 
resented  the  action  then,  though  the  thought  had 
[332] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


struck  her  that  she  would  have  resented  it  if  he  had 
been  an  Englishman.  Upon  the  present  occasion  she 
felt  that  it  was  appropriate,  that  the  young  man 
intended  it  as  a  mark  of  his  increased  respect  for  one 
who  was  suffering  for  Christ's  sake.  And  his  glance 
and  manner,  his  mother's  reception  of  her,  his  action 
in  motioning  her  with  a  graceful  gesture  to  the  great 
oak  chair  reserved  for  herself,  for  Monsignor,  and 
for  Cardinal  Grimsby,  soothed  and  gratified  her. 
Here  at  all  events  she  was  appreciated;  here  she 
received  the  homage  due  to  her ;  here  she  was  recog- 
nised as  a  great  Catholic.  She  knew,  moreover,  that 
though  she  had  hitherto  appeared  before  the  Bretons 
in  triumph  and  was  now  defeated,  that  would  not 
shake  their  belief  in  her. 

Ernest  was  aware  of  enough  of  her  recent  history 
to  form  a  shrewd  guess  as  to  her  present  position,  but 
of  course  he  did  not  refer  to  it.  He  allowed  her  to 
speak  first.  Looking  at  him  with  a  sad  smile,  she 
began:  "You  will  remember,  M.  de  Keramur,  that  I 
have  always  told  you  that  you  were  too  sanguine. 
Ah,  my  friend !  I  know  more  about  my  compatriots 
than  you  do.  I  never  thought  that  England  would 
be  converted  in  our  time.  I  only  thought  that  we 
could  do  a  little,  just  a  little  to  help  the  Cause,  win 
over  a  few  souls,  and  encourage  other  Catholics  to 
follow  our  example.  I  say  '  we, '  for  you  have  helped 
me,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  help,  and 
still  more  grateful  to  you  for  having  helped  to  bring 
about  my  own  conversion.  We  were  thrown  together 
for  a  special  purpose.  Now  I  have  come  to  say  that 
[333] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


I  have  had  to  abandon  my  mission,  and  that  we  shall 
not  meet  again.  I  am  going  abroad,  to  Eome,  and 
shall  enter  a  convent  there. " 

Ernest  started  visibly.  "Oh,  no,  no!"  he  cried. 
"  Oh,  no !  you  must  not  enter  a  convent ! "  and  his 
face  assumed  an  expression  that  she  had  never  seen 
in  it  before.  "Oh,  no!"  he  cried  out  again.  "You 
were  not  meant  to  be  a  nun.  It  is  not  God's  wiU. 
You  will  abandon  that  idea." 

His  tone  surprised  her.  "I  intend  to  become  a 
nun, "  she  returned.  "  I  shall  not  abandon  the  idea. 
I  intend  to  become  a  nun  because  I  despise  the  world 
and  can't  breathe  its  atmosphere.  Its  aims  and  ideas 
are  contemptible.  The  Catholic  laity  and  the  clergy 
also  have  deeply  disappointed  me.  They  try  to  make 
the  best  of  two  worlds;  they  are  not  prepared  to 
sacrifice  themselves,  nor  to  encounter  persecution. 
They  are  very  respectable  citizens  for  the  most  part, 
and  do  their  duties  when  they  are  not  arduous,  but 
the  grand  old  spirit  of  the  Ages  of  Faith  no  longer 
animates  them.  They  are  children  of  the  age,  an  age 
that  thinks  only  of  worldly  prosperity  and  personal 
comfort.  I  have  mixed  with  them  now  for  a  long 
time,  I  know  them  well,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  pass 
the  remainder  of  my  life  among  them.  You — no,  not 
you — they  may  retort  that  they  eyed  me  askance  from 
the  first,  and  that  they  would  be  only  too  glad  to  see 
no  more  of  me.  I  am — I  have  heard  the  whisper — 
an  enfant  terrible!  But  what  they  think  is  of  no 
consequence.  My  anxiety  is  on  behalf  of  my  con- 
verts, who  are  saintly  spirits  and  who  may  be 
[334] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


scandalised  when  they  discover  that  Catholics  are 
much  the  same  as  other  people.  They  may  be 
severely  tempted,  and  I  shall  not  be  at  hand  to 
strengthen  them ;  but  I  shall  pray  for  them.  I  look 
forward  to  my  life  in  the  convent  among  loyal, 
logical,  genuine  Catholic  ladies.  They  will  not  mis- 
understand me.  'No,  no,  don't  protest,  my  dear 
friend !  My  mind  is  made  up.  I  have  come  to  bid 
you  good-bye.  But  I  want  you  to  play  to  me  once 
again.  I  shall  be  at  my  old  place — you  know  it — 
before  the  chapel  of  St.  Peter's  at  half-past  seven 
this  evening." 

Thereupon  she  rose  and  kissed  Madame  de  Keramur 
upon  the  cheek.  "  I  wish  you  to  keep  this  in  memory 
of  me, "  said  she,  taking  a  handsome  diamond  cross 
from  her  bodice  and  handing  it  to  the  old  lady. 
Then  she  gave  her  hand  to  Ernest,  who  took  it  and 
pressed  it  slightly. 

"Oh,  let  me  speak  now! "  he  cried,  looking  fondly 
at  her,  whereupon  she  started  back  and  regarded  him 
with  consternation. 

"But  no,"  he  muttered,  dropping  his  eyes.  "No; 
the  time  has  not  yet  come." 

She  quitted  the  room,  he  following  her,  descended 
the  stair,  and  stepped  into  the  street ;  she  then  turned 
and  glanced  at  him  with  a  look  of  profound  disap- 
pointment. 

Then  he  had  acted  from  design,   played  a  part, 

crept  into  her  esteem  by  false  pretences !    He  whom 

she  had  called   her  spiritual    brother  was  a  mere 

temporal    lover   in    disguise !      The   interest  in  her 

[335] 


THE   CATHOLIC 


conversion  and  in  her  mission  that  he  had  shown  was 
assumed  that  he  might  win  her  hand  in  marriage! 
He  had  regarded  her,  not  as  a  saint  of  God's  Church, 
but  as  his  prospective  wife!  She  dismissed  him 
scornfully  from  her  mind,  put  him  with  the  other 
Catholics  against  whom  she  was  to  launch  her  indict- 
ment before  Monsignor  that  evening. 

Upon  returning  to  Eaton  Square  she  was  told  by 
Lady  Braintree  that  her  aunt  had  quitted  the  house, 
was  journeying  to  Winton,  and  hoped  to  be  back 
again  in  town  late  in  the  evening,  at  about  eleven 
o'clock,  with  the  Bishop.  Dreading  a  scene  and  a 
meeting  with  her  uncle,  Eva  determined  to  quit 
London  that  evening  before  he  and  her  aunt  should 
have  returned.  She  wrote  a  letter,  addressed  to 
them  both,  in  which  she  announced  to  them  her 
intention  of  going  abroad  and  entering  a  convent; 
expressed  the  hope  that  they  would  not  attempt  to 
find  out  her  address,  nor  write  to  her,  nor  be  anxious 
on  her  behalf.  No  possible  good  could  come  of  their 
meeting  again,  she  added;  she  was  about  to  sever 
her  connection  with  the  outside  world,  and  leave- 
takings  would  only  cause  pain  to  her  relations  and 
herself.  She  sealed  the  letter,  and  left  it  with  her 
aunt's  maid. 

She  asked  Lady  Braintree  to  forgive  her  for  not 
appearing  at  luncheon,  and  summoned  her  maid. 
This  was  at  about  half -past  one  o'clock ;  five  hours 
later  she  had  called  upon  her  bankers  and  her 
lawyers,  written  many  letters,  consulted  time-tables, 
superintended  the  packing  of  her  trunks,  and  made 
[  336  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


all  her  arrangements  and  preparations  for  quitting 
the  country  and  "  the  world. "  The  task  would  have 
occupied  most  women  for  days ;  she  accomplished  it 
in  a  few  hours:  a  remarkable  feat.  She  told  her 
maid  to  be  at  the  Victoria  station  at  half-past  nine 
o'clock  with  the  luggage  (they  were  to  spend  the 
night  at  Dover),  and  then  quitted  the  house,  stepped 
into  a  hansom,  and  was  driven  in  the  direction  of  St. 
Peter's  Church. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  not  made 
an  appointment  with  Monsignor,  that  she  might  not 
see  him  that  night,  that  he  might  not  be  in  town. 
She  was  annoyed  at  her  oversight,  but  it  was  too  late 
to  alter  her  plans.  If  she  postponed  her  departure 
she  would  have  to  encounter  her  uncle  and  aunt  and 
endure  their  remonstrances  and  reproaches,  and  after 
her  experience  in  the  morning  she  was  extremely 
anxious  to  avoid  meeting  her  friends.  She  would 
quit  London  that  night,  and  if  she  did  not  see 
Monsignor  she  would  write  to  him  her  indictment  of 
the  Catholic  body.  This  had  crossed  her  mind  when 
she  became  aware  that  the  cab  had  entered  the  square 
in  which  Newark  House  stood.  An  overpowering 
desire  to  look  upon  her  old  home  took  possession  of 
her ;  she  asked  the  cabman  to  stop,  stepped  out  of  the 
vehicle,  paid  her  fare,  and  stood  for  a  minute  gazing 
through  the  gateway  at  the  fagade  of  the  mansion. 
She  cared  not  if  she  were  observed,  recollections 
crowded  in  upon  her,  and  when  she  drew  herself  from 
the  spot  it  was  only  to  return  to  it  a  few  minutes 
later  when  she  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  square. 
23  [337] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


She  thought  of  her  father,  that  distinguished 
Englishman,  and  of  her  love  for  him,  his  love  for 
her,  his  pride  in  her,  and  her  own  pride.  Her  pride 
had  not  then  been  what  it  was  now,  the  best  kind  of 
pride,  but  it  had  not  been  ignoble.  She  was  unre- 
generate  in  those  days,  practically  not  a  Christian  at 
all,  merely  a  woman  of  the  world,  but  eminent  in  it, 
and  she  had  had  a  right  to  the  homage  paid  her. 
Subsequently  she  had  ruled  at  Newark  House  and 
Tanworth ;  but  she  would  not  if  she  could  re-establish 
her  authority  in  those  mansions ;  nor  did  she  regret 
the  remoter  past.  Her  position  at  present,  if  rightly 
understood,  was  far  more  splendid  than  it  had  ever 
been.  She  was  about  to  quit  "the  world,"  which 
was  unable  to  appreciate  a  genuine  Catholic  lady ! 

She  proceeded  on  her  way,  still  experiencing  feel- 
ings of  exaltation,  and  at  length  reached  Church 
Lane.  The  sun  was  sinking ;  the  clouds  at  the  zenith 
of  the  heavens  were  rose-hued;  but  it  was  getting 
dark  below,  and  the  church  looked  sombre.  Upon 
drawing  near  to  it,  indeed,  and  gazing  up  at  the  front 
she  was  struck  by  its  forbidding  aspect.  It  seemed 
to  frown  upon  her,  to  warn  her  not  to  enter:  an 
impression  she  was  to  remember.  She  hesitated  till 
a  pedal  note  reached  her,  and  then  she  seemed  to 
understand  why  the  church  wore  an  unfriendly  look. 
The  organ  was  being  played  by  M.  de  Keramur,  one 
of  the  pillars  of  St.  Peter's,  so  to  speak,  while  the 
whole  church  might  be  regarded  as  the  expression  of 
the  personality  of  Monsignor  Vancelour,  the  attrac- 
tive Catholic  priest.  She  recalled  the  words  he  had 
[338] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


addressed  to  her  upon  a  memorable  occasion:  '^^We 
must  not  come  to  God's  house  to  seek  pleasurable 
sensations,  Lady  Eva."  But  St.  Peter's  Church  was 
calculated  to  awaken  such  sensations,  the  music 
and  the  gorgeous  ceremonies  awoke  them,  the  con- 
gregation could  not  but  feel  them.  "Aristocratic 
Eome,"  the  Cardinal  had  said;  the  prospective 
Carmelite  might  change  the  phrase  to  "Sensuous 
Eome,"  nay,  "Decadent  Eome!"  She  was  about  to 
put  from  her  such  sensuous  feelings  as  St.  Peter's 
was  apt  to  engender,  and  worship  in  a  cold,  bare 
chapel,  where  the  music  was  a  monotonous  recitative 
upon  two  notes.  St.  Peter's  frowned  upon  her,  and 
no  wonder,  for  she  was  about  to  condemn  much  that 
it  represented. 

But  upon  entering  the  church  and  taking  a  seat  in 
tlie  nave  her  mood  changed.  The  happiest  hours  of 
her  life  had  been  spent  in  St.  Peter's;  the  influences 
and  associations  of  the  place  affected  her ;  and  when 
Monsignor  entered  from  the  sacristy  and  set  forth 
upon  his  devotional  journey  from  Station  to  Station 
(he  went  the  "  Way  of  the  Cross "  every  day  at  the 
same  hour),  she  had  to  whisper,  "I  shall  speak  my 
mind !  I  shall  bring  my  indictment  before  him, "  lest 
her  resolution  should  quit  her. 

The  organ  music  was  of  a  very  exciting  character, 
not  at  all  archaic,  extremely  modern,  dramatic,  most 
sensational.  A  critical  ear  would  have  recognised 
much  of  it  as  the  work  of  Wagner.  Ernest  was 
probably  playing,  not  from  a  score,  but  from  mem- 
ory, and  he  threw  his  soul,  apparently  an  agonised 
[  339  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


soul,  into  his  interpretation  of  the  music.  Bach, 
Handel,  Mendelssohn,  grand  and  stately  masters, 
express  profound  emotion  indeed,  but  in  a  restrained 
manner;  the  yearning,  agonised,  and,  for  the  time 
being,  despairing  soul  seeks  the  great  music-dramas 
of  Wagner ;  and  it  was  a  selection  from  one  of  these 
that  Ernest  was  pouring  out  into  the  darkening 
church. 

The  music  wrought  upon  Eva,  though  her  con- 
sciousness was  not  fixed  upon  it ;  she  kept  repeating 
to  herself,  "I  shall  speak  my  mind  this  evening!  I 
shall  speak  my  mind  this  evening ! "  She  had  had  no 
luncheon,  no  tea,  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  since  break- 
fast ;  she  had  run  to  and  fro  and  transacted  business, 
passed  through  much  agitation,  worn  herself  out. 
Her  mind  began  to  wander,  her  thoughts  to  float,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  streams  of  sound  issuing  from  the 
organ. 

The  light  gradually  left  the  stained-glass  windows, 
and  the  church  grew  darker  and  darker;  shadowy 
forms  seemed  to  be  moving  about  in  the  sanctuary. 
She  was  startled  by  the  ringing  of  the  sacristy  bell. 
A  little  later  a  man  entered  the  building  with  a  taper, 
and  lit  two  or  three  of  the  gas  brackets  in  one  of  the 
aisles.  She  could  see  his  face,  and  to  her  surprise 
(for  she  knew  all  the  officials  of  St.  Peter's)  it  was 
strange  to  her ;  she  next  observed  that  changes  had 
been  effected  in  the  church,  that  the  altars  that  were 
visible  had  fewer  flowers  and  candles  upon  them  than 
usual.  The  light  was  still  very  dim,  but  it  enabled 
her  to  perceive  that  there  were  others  in  the  church 
[340] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


besides  Monsignor,  the  organist,  and  herself.  She 
could  just  make  out  a  tall  figure  in  the  Lady  Chapel, 
conversing,  she  thought  but  could  not  be  sure,  with 
a  shorter  figure.  They  moved  occasionally,  and  pres- 
ently she  observed  the  taller  of  them  walk  towards 
the  sacristy  and  quit  the  church.  The  shorter  then 
tiirned  and  looked  in  her  direction  and  then  in  the 
direction  of  Monsignor.  She  could  not  see  his  face, 
though  she  was  absorbed  in  watching  him ;  and  when, 
a  few  minutes  afterwards,  he  followed  in  the  footsteps 
of  his  late  companion,  passing  quickly  through  a 
sphere  of  dim  light,  she  started.  It  was  a  ghost  in  a 
cassock  that  had  vanished  into  the  sacristy !  She  told 
herself  that  the  impression  was  false  and  absurd,  but 
she  could  not  throw  it  off.  She  had  caught  a  momen- 
tary glimpse  of  a  face  that  was  no  longer  human,  and 
the  way  in  which  the  cassock  had  hung  about  the 
limbs  of  the  fleeing  figure  showed  that  it  clothed  a 
frame  that  had  lost  its  flesh ! 

Superstitious  fears  took  possession  of  her.  She  felt 
that  she  must  rise  to  her  feet  and  move  about,  and 
she  was  in  the  act  of  doing  so  when  her  attention  was 
drawn  to  Monsignor,  who  had  halted  between  two 
Stations  and  was  gazing  with  intentness  at  a  wooden 
structure  which  she  knew  was  his  confessional.  This 
awoke  her  curiosity,  and  when  he  had  moved  on  again 
she  quitted  her  bench  and,  to  the  strains  of  the  weird 
and  terrible  music,  crept  towards  the  spot  where  he 
had  lingered.  She  thereupon  discovered  that  his  name 
over  the  confessional  had  been  removed  and  Father 
Macdonald's  substituted  for  it,  and  she  was  wonder- 
[341] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


ing  what  this  change  betokened,  when  she  observed 
that  Monsignor  had  finished  his  devotions  and  was 
walking  towards  the  sacristy.  But  before  he  reached 
it  he  stopped  suddenly,  and  Eva's  heart  leapt  within 
her.  The  music,  which  had  been  increasing  in 
intensity  and  volume  and  had  suggested  the  approach 
towards  some  climax,  some  awful  consummation, 
abruptly  ceased  upon  a  terrific  discord.  The  effect 
was  startling.  It  was  as  though  a  host  of  laughing 
devils  had  invaded  the  church.  Eva  thought  that 
the  clattering  reverberations  would  drive  her  mad, 
when,  making  a  great  call  upon  her  will,  she  flew  up 
the  aisle  at  her  topmost  speed,  burst  into  the  sacristy, 
and  found  herself  with  Monsignor. 

The  sacristy  was  darker  than  the  church.  It  was  a 
large  place,  fitted  up  like  a  chapel;  such  light  as 
there  was  came  from  a  gas  bracket,  which  was  turned 
down  low,  and  which  had  a  reflector  behind  it  that 
cast  the  light  upon  her  companion's  face.  Mon- 
signor's  countenance  was  indeed  the  only  brightly 
illumined  object  in  the  sacristy,  much  of  which  was 
in  almost  complete  darkness. 

The  priest  looked  surprised,  but  he  spoke  first. 
"Well,  my  daughter!"  he  inquired  calmly. 

Eva  was  out  of  breath  and  violently  excited.  She 
could  not  choose  her  tones  and  phrases ;  she  had  to 
speak  wildly  or  not  at  all.  "I  wished  to  see  you 
before  going  away,"  she  gasped.  "I  go — go  abroad 
to-night.  I— I  shall  enter  a  convent.  You  sent  your 
nephew  to  me.  It  was  very  wrong  of  you.  You  told 
him  to  offer  me  a  bribe ! " 

[342] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"No,"  said  the  priest,  "you  must  not  think  that. 
My  nephew  loves  you,  and  he  told  me  so,  and  I 
expressed   the  hope   that    you  would  accept   him. 

Then,  indeed " 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted  him;  "and  then  you  advised 
him  to  make  use  of  my  enthusiasm  and  love  of  the 
Church  and  tempt  me  into  marrying  him.  You  told 
him  to  point  out  to  me  that  I  could  build  churches 
and  further  the  Cause  if  I  had  his  fortune  at  my 
disposal." 

"  Yes,  I  told  him  that,  but  after  all " 

"Ah!  but  was  that  honourable  and  just  to  me!  " 
Monsignor  thought  a  moment.  "I^o,  not  quite," 
said  he.  "  I  should  have  recalled  the  advice  if  I  had 
been  able.  I  was  perplexed,  in  a  difficulty.  I  do  not 
think  that  I  should  have  given  my  nephew  that  advice 
had  I  devoted  a  minute  or  two  to  reflection.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  a  marriage  between  you  and  him 
was  a  desirable  event ;  I  thought  too  much  of  his  and 
my  wishes  in  the  matter  and  too  little  of  what  your 
wishes  might  be.  I  saw  my  nephew  to-day  and  told 
him  that  I  regretted  having  given  him  that  advice. 
I  say  the  same  to  you.  I  regret  it.  I  think  that  you 
have  cause  for  complaint  against  me." 

Eva  had  expected  that  he  would  admit  his  wrong- 
doing, and  she  paid  little  heed  to  his  words.  "  I  must 
speak !  I  must  speak ! "  she  was  inwardly  exclaiming ; 
and  at  length  she  said  aloud :  "  I  have  something  else 
to  say  to  you.  I  am  going  abroad,  I  am  going  to 
enter  a  convent ;  I  shall  become  a  passive  daughter 
of  the  Church.  I  have  been  an  active  member,  but  I 
[343] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


have  not  been  properly  supported.  English  Catholics 
are  quiet  and  respectable,  but  they  have  no  zeal.  It 
is  only  the  converts  who  have  zeal  and  who  push 
the  interests  of  their  religion  at  cost  to  themselves. 
"When  I  joined  the  Church  and  worked  for  her  with 
all  my  might,  I  knew  that  I  should  forfeit  my  popu- 
larity among  Protestants,  but  I  expected  to  have  the 
good-will  of  my  co-religionists.  But  I  have  not  got  it. 
They  don't  like  me  or  my  work ;  they  dread  me  and 
avoid  me,  and  are  ready  and  eager  to  believe  any 
slander  against  me.  I  am  a  fanatic,  a  preaching 
woman,  a  disturbing  and  unpleasant  person!  God 
forbid  that  their  Anglican  friends  should  think  that 
they  resembled  me,  that  I  was  a  representative  Cath- 
olic !  Why,  Catholics  are  like  other  people,  quite  as 
nice  and  agreeable!  They  are  almost  as  much 
respected  in  society  as  Protestants  themselves!  I 
bring  discredit  upon  them.  They  are  ashamed  of 
me.  The  clergy  don't  support  me.  Why  should 
they !  I  am  an  enfard  terrible !  They  want  to  lead 
quiet  lives  and  be  on  good  terms  with  their  neigh- 
bours. And  when  I  am  slandered.  Catholics,  priests 
and  laity,  disown  me  and  abandon  me  to  my  enemies ! " 

"No,  no,"  said  Monsignor  hurriedly;  then,  "Sh! 
Sh ! "  as  she  was  going  to  begin  again ;  and  he  jerked 
his  head  and  peered  into  the  darkness. 

E\'a  did  not  hear  the  light  footsteps  that  were 
approaching  them;  though  almost  exhausted,  she 
went  on:  "When  I  joined  the  Church  I  thought,  I 
hoped,  I  forced  myself  to  believe  that  it  was  com- 
posed of  noble  souls ;  but  it  is  not — not  outside  the 
[344] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


monastery  and  convent,  at  all  events.  I  shall  there- 
fore enter  a  convent,  in  the  hopes  of  finding  noble 
Catholics  there.  If  my  hopes  are  not  gratified  I  shall 
indeed  be  alone ! " 

She  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when,  to  her 
amazement  and  terror,  the  apparition  she  had  beheld 
in  the  church  suddenly  entered  her  sphere  of  vision 
with  uplifted  hand.  "  Go  down  upon  your  knees ! " 
she  heard,  and,  believing  for  the  moment  that  she  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  Supernatural,  she  instantly 
obeyed.  Monsignor  stood  his  ground  for  a  second,  as 
though  he  wished  to  remain  with  her  and  protect  her, 
but  he  reluctantly  withdrew  in  obedience  to  a  com- 
manding gesture  from  his  Superior.  And  then  the 
Cardinal  addressed  her  as  follows : 

"  You  are  guilty  of  deadly  sin !  Your  sin  is  pride. 
You  deserve  Hell!  Pride  is  hateful  hefore  God  and 
men.  It  is  the  beginning  of  all  sin;  he  that  holdethit 
shaU  he  filled  vMh  maledictions,  and  it  shall  ruin  him  in 
the  end.  Holof ernes,  Herod,  the  Pharisee:  you  will 
have  these  for  your  companions !  Your  brethren  are 
everywhere  engaged  in  warfare  against  God  and  His 
Church.  There  is  the  covetous  man,  hard  of  heart,  a 
liar,  a  perjurer,  a  thief,  who  setteth  his  own  soul  to 
sale.  He — Se  is  thy  brother!  There  is  the  shame- 
less woman,  immodest,  impure,  who  seduces  the 
innocent,  who  incites  men  to  jealousy,  revenge, 
suicide,  and  murder,  and  ends  her  life  in  madness  or 
despair.  She — She  is  thy  sister!  There  is  the  man 
of  anger,  who  hates,  curses,  kills  his  fellow-man. 
He— Jfe  is  thy  brother!  And  the  glutton  and  wine- 
[345] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


bibber,  whose  God  is  his  belly,  and  the  envious  man 
who  repines  at  his  neighbour's  good,  and  the  sluggard. 
These  are  thy  brothers ! "  * 

The  awful  words  were  spoken  slowly,  softly,  and 
in  a  tone  of  restrained  indignation.  While  uttering 
them  the  old  man  held  up  his  forefinger  and  fixed 
his  piercing  eyes  upon  the  face  of  the  kneeling 
woman.  Sheer  terror  possessed  her.  Some  moments 
passed  before  she  realised  that  she  was  in  the  presence 
of  the  Cardinal.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  had 
emerged  from  the  tomb ;  he  seemed  to  be  delivering 
a  message  that  he  had  heard  in  another  sphere ;  and 
in  his  eyes  there  shone  the  extraordinary  intelligence 
that  one  would  expect  in  a  man  who  had  been 
vouchsafed  a  glimpse  into  the  world  beyond  the 
grave. 

She  rose  in  obedience  to  his  gesture ;  she  was  ready 
to  do  his  bidding,  no  matter  what  it  was. 

"You  must  pray  for  God's  mercy,"  said  he. 

"I — I — may  I  confess  my  sin?  Will — will  you 
hear  my  confession  ?  "  she  appealed  to  him. 

"Yes,"  said  he;  and  he  moved  to  the  sacristy  door, 
and  held  it  open  for  her.  "  I  shall  come  to  you  pres- 
ently, my  child,  when  you  are  contrite." 

She  muttered  that  she  was  that  already,  and  im- 
plored him  to  hear  her  confession  at  once.  He  signi- 
fied that  he  would  do  so,  followed  her  into  the  church, 
and  unlatching  the  screen  of  the  Lady  Chapel,  entered 
the  chancel  and  took  a  seat.     She  knelt  upon  one  of 

*  Pride,  covetousness,  lust,  anger,  gluttony,  envy,  sloth,  are 
known  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  as  the  Seven  Deadly  81ns. 
[346] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


the  steps  at  his  feet,  with  the  screen  between  them, 
and  confessed  her  sin.  When  he  had  given  her  his 
absolution  she  asked  if  she  might  see  him  after  she 
had  said  her  penance  and  made  her  thanksgiving,  and 
he  told  her  Yes,  that  he  would  be  in  the  rector's  re- 
ception-room in  the  presbytery,  and  would  send  the 
sacristan  to  conduct  her  thither.  He  then  quitted 
her. 

About  twenty  minutes  later  she  entered  the  little 
room  that  she  knew  so  well,  and  found  the  Cardinal 
there.  He  rose  upon  seeing  her,  and  in  a  courteous 
gesture  invited  her  to  a  seat.  She  obeyed,  and  then 
observed  that  the  table  was  laid  with  tea  things,  a 
plate  of  sandwiches,  and  some  biscuits. 

"I  thought  that  you  might  be  fatigued,  my  child," 
said  he,  "and  I  ordered  these  things  for  you.  Blindly 
allow  me  to  pour  out  the  tea." 

She  thanked  him,  and  he  waited  upon  her  with  the 
same  grace  that  he  had  shown  towards  Ernest  de  Kera- 
mur  in  a  scene  that  has  been  described.  She  ate  and 
drank,  for  she  was  sorely  in  need  of  food,  and  mean- 
while experienced  a  feeling  of  deep  gratitude  towards 
the  man  who  had  recently  included  her  among  the 
slaves  of  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins.  She  was  touched  by 
his  charm  and  courtesy,  the  tender  solicitude  on  her 
behalf  that  she  read  in  his  eyes — eyes  that  had  terri- 
fied her  half -an-hour  ago !  He  alluded  to  her  father, 
whom  he  described  as  a  great  Englishman,  and  whom 
it  appeared  that  he  had  known.  "  God  took  him  when 
his  eyes  were  opening  to  the  truth,"  said  he;  "had  he 
lived  a  little  longer  he  would  have  submitted  to  Holy 
[347] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Church.  But  do  not  bemoan  him,  my  child.  Pray 
for  him,  indeed ;  but  pray  also  for  those  who  linger  in 
this  vale  of  tears.  Pray  for  the  poor  man  who  ad- 
dresses you,  who  is  so  so  old,  so  weary,  longing  for  re- 
lease ! "  Saying  which  he  sank  into  a  chair  with  a 
sigh  of  exhaustion. 

Eva  felt  a  lump  in  her  throat,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  they  quitted  the 
room  together,  and  met  Father  Macdonald  in  the  pas- 
sage. He  hesitated  upon  seeing  them,  and  the  Cardi- 
nal said,  "Yes!" 

"  I — may  I  speak  with  your  Eminence  a  little  later  f  " 

"Why  not  speak  now!  You  are  acquainted  with 
Lady  Eva  Fitzgower?  " 

Father  Macdonald  bowed  stiffly,  and  then  addressing 
the  Cardinal,  said:  "I  have  had  to  dismiss  M.  de  Kera- 
mur.  I  told  him  to  stop  playing  this  evening  and  he 
refused. " 

"Did  you  let  him  know  that  you  were  the  rector?  " 

"Yes,  and  I  reiterated  my  order,  but  he  went  on 
plajdng.  At  length  he  said,  *  I  have  been  asked  to 
play  this  evening  by  one  who  has  the  right  to  com- 
mand my  services. '  Again  I  ordered  him  to  stop,  and 
then  I  told  him  that  he  had  forfeited  his  post." 

"  Oh  no ! "  cried  Eva,  who  realised  that  she  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  young  man's  dismissal.  "Oh  no, 
Father !  You  will  reconsider  the  matter,  I  feel  sure. 
I — I  am  to  blame.  I  asked  M.  de  Keramur  to  play 
this  evening." 

Father  Macdonald  bowed  but  said  nothing,  and 
[348] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


after  a  rapid  glance  at  him  she  turned  to  the  Cardinal 
and  pleaded  with  him  on  behalf  of  the  young  Breton. 
His  Eminence  thought  for  a  while ;  then  addressing 
the  priest,  "  I  shall  see  you  later, "  said  he ;  and  when 
Father  Macdonald  had  walked  away :  "  There  are  rea- 
sons, my  daughter,  that  render  it  unadvisable  that  I 
should  interfere  with  the  plans  of  the  new  rector  of 
St.  Peter's.  I  shall  not  ask  him  to  reinstate  M.  de 
Keramur.  But  our  young  friend's  loss  is  not  so  great 
as  you  imagine.  St.  Peter's  enters  upon  a  new  phase 
of  its  existence  to-morrow.  The  expenses  of  the 
church  will  be  cut  down,  the  choir  dismissed,  the  or- 
gan sold.  Monsignor  Vancelour  has  been  summoned 
to  Eome  and  will  probably  remain  at  the  Vatican. 
The  aristocratic  congregation  will  quit  St.  Peter's  and 
go  elsewhere.  In  these  circumstances  it  would  not 
have  been  worth  M.  de  Keramur 's  while  to  remain  or- 
ganist of  the  church.  He  and  I  are  friends,  but  he 
has  false  theories  upon  the  subject  of  church  music. 
If  he  will  abandon  them  and  consent  to  carry  out  my 
wishes,  I  shall  enrich  him ;  if  he  will  not,  he  must 
suffer  for  resisting  the  known  truth." 

This  reassured  Eva  in  regard  to  M.  de  Keramur, 
and  her  thoughts  returned  in  gratitude  to  the  Cardi- 
nal, who  had  thrust  upon  her  an  overwhelming  sense 
of  her  sinful  pride  and  reduced  her  to  the  level  of  the 
humblest  apple-woman. 

There  was  a  brougham  outside  the  presbytery. 

"I  thought  you  might  be  tired,"  said  the  Cardinal, 
following  her  into  the  street,  "and  I  ordered  this  car- 
riage for  you." 

[349] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


He  opened  the  door  for  her,  and  she  stepped  into 
the  vehicle.  In  obedience  to  a  request  he  read  in  her 
eyes,  he  then  put  his  thin  aged  hand  over  the  door  of 
the  brougham,  and  she  saluted  his  ring  and  dropped 
tears  upon  his  fingers.  The  sight  was  interesting  and 
impressive.  It  signified  the  triumph  of  a  great  eccle- 
siastic over  a  proud  and  passionate  woman. 


[350] 


CHAPTEE  Xni 

"spirited  away" 

That  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower  and  Monsignor  Yance- 
lour  had  suddenly  quitted  London  was  soon  known  to 
everybody  interested  in  them,  and  a  little  later  the 
movements  of  the  pair  were  traced  to  Eome.  They 
had  travelled  by  the  same  train  to  Dover  and  crossed 
the  Channel  by  the  same  boat,  but  there  was  no  evi- 
dence that  they  had  met ;  and  though  Dame  Gossip  was 
inclined  to  the  belief  that  they  had  gone  off  together 
she  was  puzzled  on  hearing  of  their  destination. 
Eome  was  the  last  place  to  which  a  Catholic  priest 
would  take  the  object  of  his  passion,  unless  indeed 
he  wished  to  flout  the  Church  of  which  he  had  been  a 
member :  an  intention  difficult  to  attribute  to  so  well 
bred  a  man  as  Monsignor.  Again,  the  chief  Catholic 
jonmal  announced  that  he  had  been  summoned  to 
Eome  by  the  Pope  himself,  who  wished  to  have  him 
at  the  Vatican  on  account  of  his  knowledge  of  things 
English.  "Tell  that  to  the  marines!"  said  Mr.  Bal- 
sam in  the  Anti-Papist. 

Such  members  of  the  Catholic  body  as  had  given 
ear  to  the  scandal  and  repeated  it  now  regretted  their 
action.  The  truth  would  soon  be  known,  and  if  it  was 
proved  that  Monsignor  had  broken  his  vows  it  behoved 
Catholics  to  be  silent  about  the  matter.  Some  of 
[361] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Father  Macdonald's  "saints,"  however,  had  a  merry 
time  of  it.  The  lady  "who  went  to  confession  every 
other  day  and  remained  in  the  box  for  an  hour  ac- 
cusing herself  of  her  virtues "  had  always  regarded 
Monsignor  as  far  too  easy-going  a  priest,  and  the  lady 
"who  had  visited  Rome  in  the  old  days  and  wouldn't 
say  what  went  on  there  lest  her  Protestant  friends 
should  think — "  was  not  in  the  least  surprised :  "  Mon- 
signori.  Cardinals,  my  dear,  they  are  all  men ! "  As 
for  Lady  Newark,  she  went  about  declaring  that, 
though  herself  a  Catholic  and  a  sister-in-law  of  Lady 
Eva's,  she  was  compelled  by  her  love  of  truth  to  ad- 
mit that  she  had  proof  that  a  guilty  affection  existed 
between  the  girl  and  the  priest,  which  "a  feeling  for 
the  family  and  the  Church  "  prevented  her  from  di- 
vulging. Mrs.  "Wimpole  was  astounded  at  the  "  lack 
of  heart "  displayed  towards  the  pair  and  wanted  to 
know  if  romance  was  dead  in  the  land.  Lady  Cater- 
ham  said  little  but  wrote  much — to  her  niece,  and  re- 
ceived in  return  one  note  which  contained  no  news, 
while  the  Bishop,  who  also  wrote  to  Eva,  promising  to 
forgive  her  if  she  returned  at  once  to  her  relations, 
received  no  answer  at  all. 

But  it  would  be  easy  to  exaggerate  the  commotion 
raised  by  the  girl  and  the  priest's  disappearance.  So- 
ciety, especially  the  Catholic  section  of  it,  was  stirred, 
but  the  great  public  knew  nothing  about  the  matter 
and  would  have  remained  ignorant  about  it  but  for  the 
action  of  the  Bishop  of  Winton.  Addressing  a  public 
meeting  in  his  diocese  in  the  month  of  November,  he 
spoke  of  the  dangers  threatening  the  Church  from  the 
[352] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


encroachments  of  Eome,  and  went  on  to  dwell  upon 
the  low  state  of  morality  engendered  by  the  Eomish 
system.  He  assured  his  hearers  that  that  system 
aimed  at  enslaving,  not  only  the  consciences  and  minds 
of  its  adherents,  but  in  some  cases  their  very  bodies. 
He  declared  that  the  priest  whose  loyalty  to  Eome 
was  suspected  was  in  danger  of  being  spirited  away, 
after  which  he  might  never  again  be  heard  of.  Nay 
more,  laymen  and  laywomen  stood  in  the  same  peril. 
To  be  sure  it  did  not  often  happen  that  a  free-born 
Englishman  or  Englishwoman  was  thus  spirited  away, 
but  it  did  occasionally  happen ;  and  though  he  or  she 
might  reappear,  who  was  to  tell  what  had  happened  to 
him  or  her  meanwhile? 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  Bishop  did  not  commit 
himself  to  much.  If  he  had  been  referring  to  his  niece 
he  had  admitted  that  she  might  reappear,  while  the 
words  "  Who  was  to  tell  what  had  happened  to  him 
or  her  meanwhile!"  could  not  be  quoted  with  much 
eflfect  against  him  in  the  event  of  her  turning  up  again 
safe  and  sound.  But  he  had  used  a  telling  phrase, 
"Spirited  away,"  and  it  was  caught  up  and  up  and 
rang  throughout  the  land.  So  the  Eomish  Church 
was  in  the  habit  of  spiriting  people  away !  The  Brit- 
ish public  was  stirred  by  the  phrase  into  one  of  its 
periodical  fits  of  rage  against  Eome.  "No  Popery  I 
No  Popery ! "  was  to  be  heard,  not  only  in  the  street 
and  in  such  infectious  quarters  as  Mr.  Balsam's  shop, 
but  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  great.  At  a  dinner 
party  at  which  Mortimer  was  present  a  well-known 
statesman  expressed  his  belief  that  many  people  were 
23  [  353  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


annually  spirited  away  by  the  Eoman  power.  Morti- 
mer was  warned  by  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance,  a 
woman  of  considerable  attainments,  against  accepting 
tlie  hospitality  of  a  priest  who  had  offered  to  put  him 
up  for  the  night  on  his  way  to  the  North.  "Why?  " 
asked  Mortimer.  "You  are  a  Catholic,  I  know,  but 
you  are  suspected,"  was  the  reply,  "and  you  may 
be  spirited  away. "  The  morning  papers  were  scepti- 
cal and  one  or  two  of  them  satirical  regarding  Eome's 
habit  of  spiriting  people  away,  but  the  chief  organs  of 
the  press  may  have  been,  as  was  alleged,  worked  by 
the  Bomanists,  and  the  editor  of  The  Times  may  have 
been  a  Jesuit.  But  some  of  the  obscurer  prints  made 
capital  out  of  the  Bishop's  now  famous  spirited-away 
speech ;  the  Anti-Papist  covered  itself  with  glory,  and 
Mrs.  Balsam  purchased  a  hat  with  a  feather  in  it  and 
became  quite  the  lady. 

But  to  whom  had  the  Bishop  referred?  To  some- 
one he  knew,  of  course,  and  presumably  to  someone 
near  and  dear  to  him.  To  his  wife!  No;  she  was 
living  in  Eome,  a  figure  well-known  to  the  "Neri." 
To  his  son  ?  No ;  he  was  a  Jesuit  scholastic.  He  was 
referring  to  his  niece,  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower.  Indeed, 
and  who  was  she!  Now  came  the  turn  of  "Maud," 
"Anastasia,"  "Georgy,"  "Birdie,"  "Lollipop"  and 
other  contributors  to  the  society  press.  "Who  was 
Lady  Eva  Fitzgower!  Why,  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent ladies  of  contemporary  society,  only  daughter  of 
the  Great  Lord  Newark,  fiancee  of  the  late  Duke  of 
Oakham,  the  lady  who  made  such  a  stir  last  season  by 
inducing  her  friends  to  join  the  Church  of  Eome,  and 
[354] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


who  disappeared  suddenly  last  July  on  the  same  day 
as  the  well-known  priest,  Monsignor  Yancelour — 
"quite  too  lovely,"  "a  magnificent  brunette,"  "a 
superb  beauty  with  a  look  of  tragedy  in  her  eyes,"  "a 
romance,"  "a  dream,"  "a  poem."  The  Comet  man 
now  had  his  turn.  He  had  seen  the  lady  at  a  public 
dinner  at  which  a  very  exalted  personage  was  present. 
The  "personage"  was  seated  next  to  a  plain  woman, 
and  glanced  repeatedly  at  the  glorious  girl  opposite 
him.  The  Comet  man  suggested  that  a  mistake  had 
been  made,  and  that  the  "  personage  "  had  been  pro- 
vided with  the  wrong  partner.  Then  the  facetious 
scribe  gave  place  to  the  purveyor  of  sensation,  and 
"Abduction  of  a  Lady  of  Title  by  Priests!"  "The 
Lady  who  was  spirited  away  by  the  Eomish  Church ! " 
"Striking  Eomance  of  a  Titled  Lady  and  the  Church 
of  Rome!"  "Marquis's  Daughter  and  Monsignor!" 
"The  Priest  and  the  Lady!  Realistic  Details!"  were 
to  be  read  side  by  side  with  "  W.  G.  at  it  again ! " 
"They're  unable  to  get  Abel  out!"  "Notts  bowling 
collared!"  for  the  months  had  passed  and  summer 
come  round  again. 

Lady  Caterham  repaired  one  day  to  Winton  and 
showed  her  brother  a  paper  in  which  it  was  stated 
that  he  admitted  that  the  "spirited-away  "  passage  in 
his  famous  speech  had  reference  to  his  niece.  "  Con- 
tradict it,  Bishop!"  she  cried.  "Contradict  it!  I 
know  priests,  and  whatever  they  are  they're  not  fools! 
They'll  have  something  to  say !  They  know  how  to 
hit  back!" 

"The  statement  is  not  accurate,"  returned  the 
[355] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Bishop.  "I  have  not  said  that  the  passage  had  refer- 
ence to — to  the  girl  who  was  once  our  niece.  But  I 
decline  to  be  drawn  by  the  press.  I  have  nothing  to 
add  to  the  passage.  I  stated  what  I  believed  and  what 
I  still  believe  to  be  true." 

The  scandal  grew  and  grew ;  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower's 
name  became  a  household  word ;  and  Catholics  were 
wondering  why  official  Eome  remained  silent  under  so 
grave  a  charge. 

At  the  nick  of  time  the  following  correspondence 
appeared  in  the  press : 

"La  Quiete/'  Soebento,  Italy, 
December  15th. 
My  dear  Loed  Cardinal 

A  lady  who  has  recently  joined  us  here  tells  me  that 
an  extraordinary  rumour  is  current  in  England  con- 
cerning me.  It  seems  almost  incredible,  but  she  tells 
me  that  a  story  is  being  circulated  that  I  have  been 
spirited  away  by  a  priest  or  priests  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  Who  could  have  invented  such  an  absurd 
story?  Why  was  it  invented!  As  you  know,  I  trav- 
elled to  Eome  with  the  intention  of  entering  a  con- 
vent there,  put  up  at  the  Hotel  Minerva  and  stopped 
there  a  week,  presented  myself  at  one  of  the  Carmelite 
Convents  and  remained  there  for  a  few  weeks,  after 
which  the  Prioress  told  me  that  I  had  not  a  vocation. 
Since  then  I  have  been  staying  at  Sorrento  with  the 
kind  ladies  of  "  La  Quiete  "  who  like  myself  have  re- 
tired temporarily  from  the  world. 

I  send  this  letter  to  your  Eminence  that  you  may 
[356] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


publish  it  if  it  is  necessary,  but  not  otherwise — not 
otherwise ! 

Believe  me,  with  deep  respect, 
H  Yours  faithfully, 

Eva  Fitzgowee. 
Sis  Eminence  Cardinal  Grimsby. 

Cardinal's  House,  Westminstee, 

^  December  23rd. 

My  deae  Child 

I  do  not  propose  to  publish  your  letter,  at  all  events 

for  the  present.     The  story  that  you  have  been  spirited 

away  is,  I  think,  only  believed  by  frantic  bigots  and 

enemies  of  the  truth. 

May  God  guide  and  bless  you. 

,  Yours  faithfully  in  Christ, 

Petee,  Caedinal-Aechbishop. 

The  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower. 

Caedinal's  House,  Westminstee, 

«  May  15th. 

My  deae  Child 

I  intend  to  publish  the  letter  you  sent  me  last  De- 
cember, and  I  enclose  you  a  copy  of  it.  The  story 
that  you  have  been  spirited  away  is  spreading  among 
the  enemies  of  the  Church,  and  has  found  its  way  into 
the  press.  You  have  no  doubt  heard  that  it  owed  its 
origin  to  a  vague  utterance  of  a  kinsman  of  yours, 
whom  I  recommend  to  your  charitable  prayers. 
May  God  comfort  you. 

Yours  faithfully  in  Christ, 

Petee,  Caedinal-Aechbishop. 
The  Lady  Eva  Fitzgower. 

[357] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


"La  Quiete,"  Soeeento,  Italy, 
May  18th. 
My  deae  Loed  Caedinal 

I  regret  that  my  letter  of  December  last  must  be 
given  to  the  public,  but  I  see  the  necessity  for  it. 
That  a  kinsman  of  mine  should  have  joined  in  the 
persecution  of  me  is  a  gi*eat  blow  to  me.  God  has 
been  pleased  to  send  me  so  many  inflictions.  I  am 
trying  to  bear  up  under  this  one  and  crave  your 
Eminence's  prayers. 
Believe  me,  with  deep  respect, 

Yours  faithfully, 

Eva  Fitzqowee. 
His  Eminence  Cardinal  Grimsby. 

As  may  be  imagined,  these  letters  created  a  great 
sensation.  Even  after  their  publication  not  a  few 
people  believed  that  the  girl  had  been  drugged  or  her 
reason  unhinged  by  the  diabolical  arts  of  the  priests ; 
but  the  immense  majority  of  reasonable  English  people 
accepted  the  statements  contained  in  the  letters. 

The  Cardinal  did  not  allow  the  matter  to  drop  here ; 
he  took  the  unusual  course,  warranted  perhaps  in  the 
circumstances,  of  publicly  alluding  to  Eva.  Address- 
ing a  huge  meeting  in  the  East-end  of  London  upon 
the  subject  of  the  "Eights  of  the  Poor  in  a  Democ- 
racy, "  he  appealed  to  the  British  love  of  fair-play  and 
spirit  of  manliness.  Were  God's  poor  to  suffer  as  of 
old  for  their  creed  ?  Were  her  Majesty's  Catholic  sub- 
jects to  be  left  to  the  fury  of  bigots  and  fanatics  who 
hoped  to  revive  the  Penal  laws!  Were  the  days  of 
[358] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


persecution  about  to  return?  A  lady  in  high  place,  a 
much-afflicted  lady,  a  friend  of  the  poor  had  of  late 
been  subjected  to  a  cowardly  persecution,  in  which  a 
member  of  her  own  family,  a  prelate  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church,  had  joined.  And  why?  Because  she 
was  a  Catholic.  Grotesque  lies  had  been  told  about 
her  and  repeated  in  the  press ;  her  name  was  upon  the 
lips  of  the  scoffer,  the  calumniator,  the  wine-bibber, 
the  buffoon.  What  had  she  done  to  deserve  this? 
She  had  given  up  her  place  among  the  great  ones  of 
the  earth  in  order  to  devote  herself  to  charity  and 
prayer. 

The  speech  received  great  praise,  especially  in  the 
Eadical  organs,  and  led  to  a  revulsion  of  feeling  in 
favour  of  Catholics,  insomuch  that  the  sale  of  the  Anti- 
Papist  dropped  considerably,  and  Mrs.  Balsam  returned 
to  pettitoes  and  porter. 

Again,  in  addressing  an  assembly  of  the  prominent 
Catholic  laity,  the  Cardinal  referred  to  a  lady  who  had 
joined  the  Church  and  worked  in  her  interests  with  a 
zeal  and  success  that  recalled  the  efforts  of  the  saints. 
She  had  come  among  them  like  a  St.  Catherine  or  a 
St.  Teresa,  and  as  might  have  been  expected  she  had 
been  calumniated  by  the  enemies  of  God ;  but  what 
was  not  to  have  been  expected  and  yet  alas !  had  hap- 
pened was  that  her  own  co-religionists  had  misunder- 
stood and  suspected  her,  and,  when  her  reputation 
•was  assailed,  abandoned  her  to  her  enemies.  Her 
brother  of  the  faith  had  turned  against  her ;  ay,  and 
her  sister ! 

This  speech  led  to  an  extraordinary  revulsion  of 
\  [359] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


feeling  in  Eva's  favour  among  Catholics.  Those  who 
had  disliked  and  suspected  her  became  the  highest  in 
her  praise.  Anecdotes  and  legends  collected  round 
her  name.  Even  Father  Macdonald's  "  saints  "  caught 
up  the  new  enthusiasm ;  they  would  indeed  have  given 
a  high  price  for  a  piece  of  her  gown, — have  stolen  it  if 
they  had  had  the  chance ! 

Another  result  of  the  Cardinal's  action  was  that 
the  Bishop  of  Winton  resigned  his  see  on  the  grounds 
of  ill-health. 

EPILOGUE 

About  five  years  after  the  events  narrated  a  well- 
known  priest,  Father  White,  called  upon  Father  Mac- 
donald,  with  whom  he  had  been  in  correspondence  on 
the  subject  of  a  biography  of  the  late  Cardinal  Grims- 
by that  had  recently  appeared.  Father  White,  in 
common  with  the  majority  of  his  co-religionists, 
thought  that  the  biography  did  injustice  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  deceased  prelate ;  and  he  had  undertaken 
to  write  another  and  in  his  opinion  a  more  accurate 
life  of  the  Cardinal.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation 
he  said  that  in  examining  his  Eminence's  papers  he 
had  come  upon  the  names  of  Lady  Newark,  Lady  Eva 
Fitzgower,  and  Ernest  de  Keramur,  and  he  asked 
Father  Macdonald  for  information  concerning  those 
persons. 

Thereupon  Father  Macdonald  gave  him  the  outline 
of  this  narrative  and,  with  many  details  about  the 
Cardinal  which  would  be  out  of  place  here,  concluded 
the  history  of  the  persons  named. 
[  360  ] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


Lady  Newark's  career  as  a  leader  of  "Smart"  so- 
ciety did  not  last  long.  Her  health  gave  way  under  re- 
peated attacks  of  influenza ;  she  quarrelled  with  Mrs. 
Wimpole,  and  retired  to  a  flat  in  Mayfair,  a  chronic 
invalid.  From  the  last  accounts  of  her  it  would  seem 
that  she  had  submitted  her  conscience  and  her  tem- 
poral affairs  to  the  control  of  a  well-known  Father  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus. 

Ernest  de  Keramur  was  a  man  in  whom  Father 
Macdonald  was  not  much  interested.  Cardinal  Grims- 
by, on  the  other  hand,  had  taken  a  great  interest  in 
the  young  Breton  and  had  regarded  him  as  a  mystic. 
"He  has  a  clean  heart,"  his  Eminence  had  said; 
"things  hidden  from  us  are  perhaps  revealed  to  him. 
Don't  laugh  at  his  dreams  for  they  may  come  true." 
To  judge  from  Father  Macdonald  the  prelate  had 
helped  the  young  Breton  to  realise  his  dream. 

After  his  dismissal  from  the  post  of  organist  of  St. 
Peter's  Ernest  had  gone  to  Brittany  with  his  mother 
and  lived  there  for  a  year  upon  his  savings.  The 
death  of  three  of  his  kinsmen  in  the  Madagascar  cam- 
paign had  put  him  in  possession  of  the  domain  of  the 
Keramurs  and  made  him  the  head  of  that  ancient 
race.  Shortly  afterwards  his  mother  died,  and  he 
went  to  Eome,  and  was  welcomed  by  the  leaders  of 
the  society  that  has  remained  loyal  to  the  Pope. 

In  the  mean  time  Lady  Eva,  having  discovered  that 
she  was  unfitted  for  the  conventual  life,  had  also  en- 
tered that  society ;  she  and  Ernest  met,  their  relations 
became  more  and  more  friendly,  and,  encouraged  by 
the  Cardinal,  who  happened  to  be  in  Eome  at  the 
[361] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


time,  Keramur  one  day  proposed  marriage  to  her  and 
was  accepted.  There  was  nothing  surprising  in  such 
a  marriage,  nor  in  the  circumstances  could  it  be  re- 
garded as  a  mesalliance.  In  Eome  the  pair  were  more 
or  less  on  a  footing  of  equality.  Then  Lady  Eva's  posi- 
tion as  an  unmarried  lady  in  a  foreign  city  with  none 
of  her  people  about  her  was  rather  a  difficult  one. 
But  her  married  life  was  of  short  duration.  Notwith- 
standing Ernest's  talent  for  music  and  her  love  for  it 
she  discouraged  him  from  pursuing  an  artistic  career. 
He  was  a  gentleman,  a  nobleman,  not  a  professional 
man,  and  foremost  among  the  accomplishments  of 
such  a  person  should  be  the  ability  to  ride  straight  to 
hounds.  Well,  Ernest  experienced  no  difficulty  in 
learning  to  ride ;  but  his  wife  and  his  companions  had 
been  "at  home"  in  the  saddle  since  their  childhood, 
and  he  had  not.  For  all  that  he  must  equal  if  not 
surpass  their  feats  of  horsemanship.  The  result  of 
such  an  endeavour  might  have  been  foretold.  He  was 
thrown  one  day  and  broke  his  back.  He  was  killed, 
but  he  had  realised  his  dream.  Lady  Eva  conveyed 
his  remains  to  Brittany  where  they  were  buried  with 
pomp,  after  which  the  poor  woman  disappeared ;  no 
one,  not  even  the  Cardinal,  knowing  what  had  become 
of  her.  "But  I  can  form  a  shrewd  guess,"  his  Emi- 
nence had  said. 

"  And  have  you  been  able  to  ascertain  whether  he 
guessed  aright?  "  asked  Father  White. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply,  and  then  Father  Macdonald 
told  his  companion  that  a  few  weeks  ago  Mr.  Frank 
Mortimer  had  caught  sight  of  the  lady  in  the  East 
[362] 


THE  CATHOLIC 


end  of  London.  She  was  in  the  garb  of  a  Sister  of 
Charity,  and  she  was  holding  the  wrists  of  a  drunken 
man  who  was  about  to  assault  his  wife.  Upon  inquiry 
Mr.  Mortimer  learnt  that  she  was  known  as  Sister 
Teresa,  and  that  the  most  difficult  and  dangerous  cases 
were  intrusted  to  her  on  account  of  her  courage  and 
physical  strength. 

To  live  among  the  roughest  people  in  the  commu- 
nity, to  scrub  floors  and  perform  the  humblest  tasks, 
to  carry  women  in  her  arms,  to  struggle  with  low  ruf- 
fians, to  steal  bread  for  starving  children,  were  the 
self-imposed  duties  of  the  once  brilliant  Eva  Fitz- 
gower.  And  Cardinal  Grimsby,  a  keen  student  of 
character,  had  declared  that  in  the  fulfilment  of  such 
duties  she  would  attain  to  peace. 


THE  END 


[803] 


CASTING     OF     NETS 

By    RICHARD    BAGOT 

Some  mysterious  welldoer,  convinced  of  the  truth  and  power  of 
this  work,  is  presenting  free  copies  to  300  libraries  of  America. 
Recently  in  England  the  Princess  of  Wales  has  accepted  a  copy 
of  the  book  and  is  reported  to  be  "quite  delighted  with  it.''* 


Hall  and  Express,  Hew  York.— <<  A  novel  of  unquestionable  strength, 
written  by  a  skilled  hand.  The  book  is  written  with  consummate  art.  Its 
characters  are  lifelike ;  the  descriptions  are  excellent ;  the  book  reflects  the 
breeding  of  the  class  of  people  with  which  it  deals.  Its  chapters  on  papal  and 
royal  Rome  will  well  bear  comparison  with  the  best  on  this  fruitfiil  subject 
written  by  English  authors." 

Evening  Transcript,  Boston.  —  «  The  book  is  written  with  both  power  and 
feeling,  and  one  is  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  it  is  the  work  of  some  one 
who  has  had  personal  and  practical  knowledge  of  the  inside  as  well  as  the  out- 
ade  of  the  Catholic  Church." 

RabW  Joseph  Eratukopf,  D.D.  —  «'  The  story  is  excellently  written ;  it 
holds  the  reader  spellbound  from  first  to  last.  The  author  deals  with  ^cts ; 
the  names  are  but  guises  of  actual  personages  weU  known  in  aristocratic  circles 
in  England  and  in  Rome. ' ' 

Dean  Hole,  In  The  Academy.— <<  Of  the  novels  which  I  have  read  in 
1901,  I  have  been  much  pleased  and  interested  in  the  '  Casting  of  Nets.'  '* 

Canon  Scott  Holland,  preaching  In  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London.  —  <<  A 
book  widely  read  of  late,  a  book  of  singular  brilliancy. ' ' 

Pnbllc Ledger,  Philadelphia.— <<  The  book  is  a  plea  for  generous  breadth 
of  thought  in  every  form  of  religion,  and  a  protest  against  bigotry  of  small 
minds." 

ITew  York  Times.  —  "  Frankly  a  novel  with  a  purpose,  namely,  the  exposure 
of  certain  practices  and  methods  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  It  is  to  the  credit 
of  Mr.  Bagot  that,  in  spite  of  this  controversial  tone,  he  has  managed  to  make 
'  Casting  of  Nets '  a  story  of  real  human  interest,  —  one  which  the  present 
writer  has  found  more  difficult  to  lay  aside  than  any  of  the  tales  of  adventure 
and  gore  with  which  the  time  is  rife." 

TlmeSfBoaton.  — <<  A  story  which  enlightened  readers  will  want  to  ulk 
about  at  length.  It  is  a  most  remarkable  and  interesting  novel ;  and  this 
much  can  be  said  further  of  the  author's  work  :  it  is  a  revelation  in  the  way  of 
literary  power  and  a  careful  sketch  of  church  matters." 

Post,  Pittsburg.  —  **  One  of  the  most  pleasantly  told  stories  involving  heated 
questions  of  religious  action  or  policy  we  have  lately  seen.  Some  of  the  char- 
acters are  very  strong,  others  very  witty  j  their  conduct  is  irreproachable,  and 
their  intrigues  in  the  cause  of  religious  belief  or  prejudice  always  pleasant  and 
agreeable," 


A    ROMAN     MYSTERY 

By    RICHARD    BAGOT 


Literary  World.—  "  A  well-written  novel.  The  author  writes  of  those 
intrigues  at  Rome  between  the  '  Bianchi '  and  the  '  Neri '  that  have  already 
supplied  material  to  such  writers  as  Marion  Crawford  and  Zola,  and  he  yet 
manages  to  present  the  questions  involved  freshly  and  feirly.  He  is  evidently 
well  acquainted  with  Roman  life,  and  with  that  double  set  of  theories  which 
divide  Roman  society  sharply  into  two  parts.  His  scenes  are  interesting,  and 
his  conversations,  such  as  those  between  the  young  Princess  Brancaleone  and 
the  Cardinal,  are  well  sustained  and  much  to  the  point.  The  whole  account 
of  Roman  life  is  fi-esh  and  accurate." 

literature.  —  "<A  Roman  Mystery'  shows  a  very  accurate  observation 
of  the  social  atmosphere  of  the  Italian  capital ;  neither  Bourget's  '  Cosmopolis,' 
Zola's  'Rome,'  nor  Kassandra  Vivaria's  'Via  Lucis'  afforded  so  true  a  glimpse 
of  the  inner  life  of  the  Roman  aristocracy.  Those  who  turn  to  this  novel  as 
a  means  of  gaining  an  insight  into  Roman  social  life,  and  even  those  who 
possess  first-hand  knowledge  of  it,  will,  however,  be  ready  to  overlook  minor 
blemishes  in  consideration  of  the  skill  with  which  he  handles  delicate  situations, 
and  reproduces,  without  offending,  the  broad  conversational  tone  characteristic 
of  the  intercourse  of  the  society  he  depicts.  The  book  has  many  passages  of 
warmth  and  eloquence  —  as,  for  instance,  those  in  which  Mr.  Bagot  describes 
the  charm  of  the  city  during  the  cool  mornings  and  warm  evenings  of  early 
summer." 

Spectator.  —  "Mr.  Bagot  has  given  us  a  most  interesting  book.  The 
portraiture  of  the  book  is  often  excellent,  and  the  author's  intimate  knowledge 
of  Italian  society  is  manifested  at  every  turn." 

Mancbester  Gnardiaa.  —  "The  story  runs  on  sensational  lines,  and  there 
are  some  quite  effective  *  creepy '  passages.  The  glimpses  of  Roman  fashionable 
life  and  religious  intrigue  are  interesting." 

Sbeffield  Telegraph. —  "  A  careful  piece  of  work,  with  a  credible  and 
rather  strong  plot,  and  throws  light,  which  is  worth  having,  on  contemporary 
Italian  life  in  Rome.  The  interest  in  the  book  centres  on  the  position  of 
Prince  Brancaleone  and  his  wife  —  free-thinking  Roman  Catholics,  with  strong 
inducements  to  become  Papalists.  Mr.  Bagot  shows  himself  to  be  well  in- 
formed, and  his  book  deserves  to  be  taken  seriously," 

Queen. —  "  Mr.  Richard  Bagot  has  a  skill  in  writing  which  interests  the 
reader,  and  forces  him  to  go  on  reading  almost  against  his  will.  .  .  .  The 
heroine,  a  Scottish  woman  of  good  birth,  is  a  well-drawn  character." 

Dtmdee  Advertiser. —  "  The  author  seems  to  be  well  acquainted  with 
Roman  society,  and  his  picture  of  the  plots  and  counter-plots  at  the  Vatican  is 
full  of  interest  .  .  .  Once  the  reader  is  fairly  embarked  on  the  current  of  the 
•tory,  he  is  carried  resistlessly  on  to  its  end." 

Birmingham  Gazette. —  "There  is  much  that  is  praiseworthy  in  the  book  j 
the  writing  shows  marked  ability  and  considerable  knowledge  of  social  life  and 
political  and  religious  feeling  in  Italy.     The  book  is  worth  reading." 

newcastle  Chronicle.  —  "  The  description  of  social,  political,  and  religioua 
life  in  Italy  is  the  most  attractive  part  of  the  book." 


THE  JUST  AND  THE  UNJUST 

By    RICHARD    BAGOT 


The  Spectator.  —  <'  it  is  purely  a  novel  of  society,  and  is  interesting  chiefly 
because  it  gives  real  portraits  of  the  world  as  we  know  it.  Readers  who  like  a 
novel  dealing  with  the  world  they  live  in,  and  peopled,  not  with  dummies,  but 
with  real  live  characters,  will  find  '  The  Just  and  the  Unjust '  a  thoroughly 
amusing  and  interesting  book." 

The  Dally  Telegraph. —  "  As  a  picture  of  latter-day  manners  and  morals, 
Mr,  Bagot's  book  is  a  thoughtful  and  well>considered  piece  of  work ;  he  can 
draw  his  types,  and  knows  them  well." 

Literature.  —  "Mr.  Richard  Bagot  must  be  congratulated  on  his  deter- 
mination to  pursue  the  art  of  fiction  into  new  outlets,  and  he  has  done  well  in 
his  new  book,  'The  Just  and  the  Unjust,'  —  a  book  of  great  merits,  —  to 
choose  a  new  theme.  We  have  followed  his  writing  with  interest  from  the 
first,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  he  belongs  to  the  small  and  select  band  of 
authors  who  tell  their  stories  in  pure,  limpid,  and  grammatical  English.  He  is 
never  rhapsodical,  nor  does  he  say  clever  things.  His  style  is  good,  because  it 
is  natural  and  balanced  and  restrained.  There  is,  in  fact,  only  one  word  for  it : 
it  is  'well  bred.'  " 

The  Morning  Post.  —  "  Mr.  Bagot  deserves  the  success  which  he  is  almost 
certain  to  obtain.  The  chief  personage  is  a  delightfiil  old  gentleman,  one  of 
the  most  attractive  and  'convincing'  examples  of  the  social  diplomatist  that  we 
have  met  in  our  extensive  rambles  in  fiction.   .    .   .  It  is  an  excellent  novel." 

The  Manchester  Guardian.  —  "  There  is  much  brilliant  writing  in  the 
book,  the  style  is  excellent,  and  the  characters  are  admirably  drawn." 

The  St.  James's  Gazette.—  "  Mr.  Richard  Bagot  has  put  some  capital  work 
into  his  new  novel,  'The  Just  and  the  Unjust.'  The  plot  is  good,  the  story 
is  well  constructed,  and  delicate  atuations  are  delicately  handled." 

The  Westminster  Gazette. —  "  Mr.  Bagot  knows  the  world  of  which  he 
writes,  and  the  character  studiea  in  this  volume  are  drawn  with  subtlety." 

The  Standard.  —  "  The  book  is  a  success.  Moreover,  it  is  a  good  and 
capable  bit  of  work,  well  written,  and  showing  considerable  undersUnding  of 
that  complex  thing,  the  feminine  character." 

The  Onlooker.—  "  By  the  reason  of  the  gentle  stir  created  in  society  by  the 
*  Casting  of  the  Nets,'  Mr.  Bagot's  second  book  was  looked  for  with  some  inter- 
est. The  book  is  well  worth  reading  for  the  skill,  fi^nkness,  and  observation 
that  its  portraiture  betrays.  With  training  he  will  write  a  novel  dealing  with 
society  that  will  make  its  mark,  for  he  knows  more  about  his  subject  than  doet 
the  average  scribe." 


The  International  Studio 

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THE  CANVASBACK  LIBRARY 

A  Uniform  Series  of  Some  Favourite  Popular  Novels 

Bound  in  stiff  Decorative  Boards 

izmo.      75  cents  each 

VOLUMES  NOfT  APPEARING 

I.     MADEMOISELLE  BLANCHE.      By  John  D.  Ba««t,  author  of  '•  A 

Daughter  of  The«pi«,"  "The  Intriguers,"  etc. 
*.      HIS  FORTUNATE  GRACE.     By  Gbhtbudb  Atmkbton,   author    of 

•♦  Senator  North,'*  •*  Patience  Sparhawk,"  etc. 

3.  THE  JUDGMENT  OF  HELEN.     By  Thomas  Cobi,  author  of  "  Mr. 

Passingham,"  "  Carpet  Courtship,"  etc. 

4.  MADEMOISELLE    MISS.      By    Hxnkt   Habland,    author  of   « The 

Cardinal's  SnufF-Box,"  "The  Lady  Paramount,"  etc. 

5.  BROKEN  AWAY.     By  Bkatbicb  E.  Gbimshaw. 

6.  KITWYK.     By  Mbs.  John  Lank  (Anna  lichberg  King),  author  of 

♦*  Brown's  Retreat,"  etc. 

7.  COMMENTS  OF  A  COUNTESS.     Anonymous. 

8.  THE  USURPER.     By  Wiluam  J.  Lockb,  author  of  "  Where  Love  Is," 

"Idols,"  etc. 

9.  A  SECOND  COMING.      By  Richabd  Mabsh. 

10.  REGINA:    OR,  THE  SINS   OF  THE    FATHERS.      By   Hebmann 

SnoEBMANM.     (  A  translation,  from  the  German,  by  Beatrice  Marshall,  of 
"Der  Katrensteg"). 

11.  LOVE    OF  COMRADES;    A  Romance.    By  Fbane  Mathew,  author 

of  "One  Queen  Triumphant,"  "  The  Wood  of  the  Brambles, "  etc. 
IS.     THE  BEAUTIFUL  MRS.  MOULTON.    By  Nathaniel  Stephenson, 
author  of"  They  That  Toole  the  Sword,"  '«  Eleanor  Dayton,"  etc. 

1 3.  VISITS  OF  ELIZABETH.     By  Elinob  Gltn,  with  photograrure  front- 

ispiece portrait  of  the  heroine. 

14.  A  YEAR  OF  LIFE.     By  W.  S.  Liixt. 

15.  THE  CATHOLIC  :  A  Novel.     Anonymous. 

16.  JOHN  BURNET  OF  BARNES.      ByJoHN  Buchan,  author  of  "  A  Lort 

Lady  of  Old  Years,"  "  Grey  Weather,"  etc. 

17.  SCRUPLES.     By  Thomas  Cobb,  author  of  "  Sererance,"  "The  Dis- 

semblers," etc. 

18.  LUCK  O'  LASSENDALE.   By  the  Rt.  Hon.  The  Eabl  op  Iddeslkich, 

author  of  "  Charms  :  a  Novel,"  etc. 

19.  SUNBEETLES:     A  Comedy.      By  Thomas  Pinkkbton. 

lo.      IDOLS.     By  William  J.  Locke,  author  of  "  Derelicts."   "  A  Study  in 
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j1  breezy  novel,  for  those  ivho  like  action  and  life  and  movement. 


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By  The  Right  Hon.  The  Earl  of  Iddesleigh,  author  of  **  Luck 
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A  BROKEN   ROSARY  :     A  Novel 

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The  itory  of  a  •woman' i  love,  and  of  a  priest' s  •will — and  of  the  •victory. 


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The  story  of  a  strong  man,  and  of  a  •weak  one — and  of  a  •woman. 


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A  ne^w  story  by  the  •well-kno^wn  author  of  ^* Patricia  of  the   Hills,"     "The    Fin 
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HOW  TYSON  CAME  HOME  :     A  Novel 

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A  story  vjith  fwo  charming  heroines,  American  and  English,  in  the  balance — and 
a  perplexed  hero. 


DORA  GREENWELL  McCHESNEY 

CORNET  STRONG  OF  IRETON'S  HORSE:  An  Ejm- 
sode  of  the  Ironsides.  By  Dora  Greenwell  McChesney. 
With  eight  full  page  line  drawings  by  Maurice  Greiffenhagen. 
Decorative  cover.      i2mo.     ^1.50. 

Miss  McChesney's  mastery  of  the  art  of  the  historical  norel  has  been  attested 
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Gnux  of  God/'  «  Miriam  Crmnwell,  Royalist,"  *<  Kathkeo  Clatc,"  etc 


CHARLES   MARRIOTT 

THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  SANDS:  A  Novel.  ByCHAWji 
Marriott,  author  of  *«Tbe  Column'*  (18,000),  and  "Love 
with  Honour."     izmo.     ^1.50. 

Mr.  Marriott's  first  novel  "The  Column"  vna  picked  as  one  ctf'  the  ten 
best  novels  of  the  year  (1901),  and  the  same  honour  has  been  accorded  hit 
•coond  novel  **Love  «rith  Hooour"  (1901). 


Hon.  MRS.  HENNIKER 

CONTRASTS.    By  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Hinnikbr,  author  of  <*In 
Scarlet  and  Grey.  * '     i  zmo.     j^  i  •  50. 


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ZOLA 

TRUTH.      By  Emtle  Zola.     Translated  by  Ernest  A.  Vize- 

telly.     izmo.     ^1.50. 

« 

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and  "Fruitfulness."  "Truth"  was  completed  only  a  few  days  before  the 
great  author's  untimely  death.  In  plot  the  story  is  virtually  a  resetting  of 
the  celebrated  Dreyfus  case,  and  the  experiences  of  the  hero  correspond  in 
many  instances  exactly  with  those  of  Zola    himself  in  the  famous  af^ir. 


MRS.  WILFRID  WARD 

THE  LIGHT  BEHIND.  By  Mrs.  WapwD  Ward. 
izmo.     ^1.50. 

The  author's  previous  novel  "One  Pooi  Scruple"  acquired  considerable  popu- 
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Roman  Catholicism  on  modem  social  life. 


VANDA  WATHEN-BARTLETT 

THE    GAP    IN   THE    GARDEN.     By  Vanda  Wathkn- 
Bartlett.      I  zmo.     ;^  i .  50. 
By  the  same  author :  "  Heart's  Desire." 


ANONYMOUS 

ELIZABETH'S    CHILDREN,      izmo.     ^1.50. 

This  book  is  in  direct  descent  from  the  famous  "Visits  of  Elizabeth"  aad 
**Thc  Letters  of  Her  Mother  to  Elizabeth." 


THE  NEW  POCKET  LIBRARY 

A  Handy  Scries  of  Editions  of  the  Standard  Novels 

Printed  irom  clear  type,  upon  a  specially  thin  and  opaque  pipCT, 

specially  manufactured 

With  short  Introductions  by  Algar  Thorold, 

W.  Clark  Russell,  and  Others 

1 6mo.      (6x31^  inches) 

Bound  in  Cloth,      Price  50  cents  net 

Bound  in  Leather,    Price  7$  cents  net 

NEfT  VOLUMES 

Vol.  XV.     EUPHRANOR.     By  Edward  Fitzgerald. 

Vol.  XVI.  TYPEE  :  A  real  Romance  of  the  South  Seas.  By 
Herman  Melville.  Edited  with  an  Introduction  by  W. 
Clark  Russell,   and  notes  by  Marie  Clothilde  Balfour. 

Vol.  XVII.  OMOO  :  A  real  Romance  of  the  South  Seas.  By 
Herman  Melville.  Edited  with  an  Introduction  by  W, 
Clark  Russell,  and  notes  by  Marie  Clothilde  Balfour. 

Vol.  XVIII.  MR.  MIDSHIPMAN  EASY.  By  Captain 
Marryatt. 

Vol.  XIX.     PETER  SIMPLE.     By  Captain  Marryatt. 

Vol.  XX.  THE  BERTRAMS.  By  Anthony  Trollope.  With 
an  Introduction  by  Algar  Thorold. 

Vol.  XXI.  THE  THREE  CLERKS.  By  Anthony  Trol- 
lope.     With  an  Introduction  by  Algar  Thorold. 

VOLUMES  ALREADY  PUBLISHED 

Vol.  I,      ADAM  BEDE.     By  Gkobgk  Eliot. 
Vol.  II.     SCENES  OF  CLERICAL  LIFE.      By  George  Eliot. 
Vol.  III.     THE  MILL  ON  THE  FLOSS.      By  G«o«ge  Eliot. 
Vol.  IV.     SILAS  MARKER.      By  George  Eliot. 
Vol.  V.     BARCHESTER  TOWERS.     By  Anthont  Trollofb. 
Vol.  VI.      DR.  THORNE.      By  Anthony  Trollope. 
Vol.  VII.     THE  WARDEN.     By  Avthony  Trollope. 
Vol.  VIII.     FRAMLEY  PARSONAGE.      By  Anthony  T«OLtow. 
Vol.  IX.     LAVENGRO.     By  George  Borrow. 
Vol.  X.     THE  ROMANY  RYE.     By  George  Borrow. 
Vol.  XI.     THE  BIBLE  IN  SPAIN.      By  George  Borrow. 
Vol.  XII,     THE  ZINCALI.      By  George  Borrow. 
Vol.  XIII.     THE  SCARLET  LETTER.      By  Nathaniel  Hawthorni. 
Vol.  XIV.     THE  HOUSE  OF  THl  SEVEN  GABLES.     By  NathanmI, 
Hawtbornb. 


THE  LITERARY  GUILLOTINE 

i2mo.  ^i.oo  net 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox,  zvriles  : 

*'  Permit  mc  to  thank  the  autho«  for  a  book  of  wit — absolutely  free  from 
malice.  It  is  a  collection  of  literary  cartoons  of  high  order.  I  wish  I  knew 
the  authors  to  personally  thank  them." 

Mr.  Edzvin  Markhar.:  {^'The  Man  With  the  Hoe")  tvrites: 
*' Like  the  corpse  of  the  Chinese  stage  that  picks  his  head  up    and   runs   oft 
nimbly  at  the  wings,  so  I,  forgetting  that  I    am  'dead,'  spring  up    from    the 
block  to  make  my  bow  to  the  clever  executioner  and  to  express  my  delight   at 
the  neatness  of  the  stroke.      Good  fortune  to  the  axe." 

Mr.  Charles  Major  {^* Dorothy  Vernon'^)  zvrites: 

**  It  is  interesting,  even  for  us  who  are  guillotined  ;  as  some  one   once   said    to 

his  executioner,  'It  is  a  pleasure  to  be  beheaded  by  so  fine  a  gentleman.'  '* 

Dr.S.  Weir  Mitchell  {''Hugh   Wynne")  zvrites: 

"  I  thank  you  very  much  for  the  clever  little  sketch,  which  really   extremely 

amused  me — even  with  the  head  of  me  gone," 

Mr.  Madison  J.  Cawein  ["  Myths  and  Romance*')  zvrites: 
•'  Whoever  the  author  is,  and  I  strongly  suspect  two— HENRY  TYRWELL 
and  WILLIAM  J.  LAMPTON — he  is  certainly  one  of  the  best  satisists  our 
country  has  ever  known.  His  knowledge  of  the  writings  of  the  different 
authors  tried,  as  well  as  all  their  little  ways  and  mannerisms,  is  simply  wonderful. 
The  book  has  already  begun  to  make  a  sensation.  It  has  been  a  long  time 
■ince  I  enjoyed  a  clever  piece  of  writing  like  this." 

7  he  Philadelphia  Record  : 

•'Not  a  few  readers  of  this  racy  indictment  of  Richard  Harding  Davis,  Marie 
Corelli,  et  al.,  attribute  the  work  to  JAMES  LANCASTER  FORD,  but 
others  are  equally  positive  that  he  is  JOHN  KENDRICK.  BANGS.  Cir- 
cumstantial evidence  is  not  lacking  in  support  of  both  views. ' ' 

The  Springfield  Republican  : 

"The  informed  reader  will  not  go  far  in  the  task  of  perusing  these  pages  with- 
out arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  'myself  stands  for  JAMES  LANCAS- 
TER FORD,  for  the  earmark  that  he  put  upon  'The  Literary  Workshop* 
is  hardly  to  be  mistaken.'* 

Mr.  Henry  L.  Saunders  says : 

"I    should    like    to    hazard    a   guess  that  RICHARD  L£  GALLIENNE 

helped  to  sharpen  the  knives." 

The  San  Francisco  Nezvs-Letter : 

"The  identity  of  the  author  of  'The  Literary  Guillotine'  is  withheld,  though 
I  strongly  suspect  CHARLES  BATTELL  LOOMIS  of  being  the  per- 
petrator.*' 

7^  Baltimore  Herald : 

"In  connection  with  the  speculation  as  to  the  name  of  the  author  it  may  be 
■aid  that  a  number  of  the  articles  (ound  something  like  the  mental  evolution* 
of  GELETT  BURGESS." 


The  International  Studio 

A.n    Illustrated    Magazine   of    Fine   and   Applied   Art 


Published  by  JOHN  LANE 

The  Bodley  Head 
67  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City 

35  cents  per  Month.     Annual  Supscription,  ^3.50 

Three  Months*  Trial  Subscription,  ^i.oo 
Two  Specimen  Copies  sent,  post  free,  for  25  cents 

IT  is  the  aim  of  "  The  International  Studio"  to  treat  of  every 
Art  and  Craft — ^Architecture,  Sculpture,  Painting,  Ceramics, 

Metal,  Glass,  Furniture,  Decoration,  Design,  Bookbinding, 
Illustrating,  Photography,  Lithography,  Enamel,  Jewelry,  Needle- 
work, Gardening,  etc.  The  principal  writers  on  Art  are  contri- 
butors to  its  pages.  Many  original  illustrations,  reproduced  in 
every  variety  of  black  and  white  process,  half-tone,  line,  photo- 
gravure, etc.,  are  to  be  found  in  each  number.  Color  plates 
of  real  value  arc  to  be  found  in  every  issue.  No  magazine  can 
boast  a  more  artistic  and  sumptuous  get-up  than  ''  The  Interna- 
tional Studio." 

Everyone  interested  in  Art,  professionally  or  otherwise, 
should  read  it ;  for  the  magazine  keeps  its  readers  au  fait  with 
the  doings  of  the  art  world,  both  literary  and  technicai. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONA;.  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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